CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
[Shallows]
HARRY
The Great Hall was lit up in all its glory just as every other year but that didn't stop him feeling amazed any less. Not only were there a dozen frost-covered Christmas trees and thick streamers of holly and mistletoe crisscrossing the ceiling, but enchanted snow was falling, warm and dry, from the ceiling. A hundred fat, roast turkeys, mountains of roast and boiled potatoes, platters of fat chipolatas, tureens of buttered peas, silver boats of thick, rich gravy and cranberry sauce – and stacks of wizard crackers every few feet along the center table made for everyone to sit together.
He pulled the large, woolen jumper ("You'll grow into it!") closer to the chest as he eyed the occupants of the table.. Only a handful of staff was there as well as students. Dumbledore sat there already in bright red and green robes chatting away gleefully with McGonagall. Snape was there as well but he got the impression that the man didn't want to be there with the way his nose was upturned haughtily and seated at the other end of the table.
Draco was there with the rest of the students. He was sitting with his godfather in fresh clothes and formal robes that set him out from the rest of the students. Even far away from his parents Draco still set out an example to dress nicely. In the blonde's mind, Christmas was an occasion that called for a dress code and not pajamas or jumpers.
They had spent the whole Christmas day together so far, something that left a funny feeling spreading throughout him, and he'd only left to get clean clothes so they wouldn't look suspicious walking in together.
He looked up at Harry as he walked in only to put on the carefully planned sneer for good measure. Ever since school had started Harry had found Malfoy was a brilliant actor when he so wanted. Far better than the dramatic soap-operas his aunt watched. He didn't like to think about why that was, especially growing up in a household like the Malfoy's, just that perhaps's Draco's skills were enough to make it believable enough for both of them. Merlin knows he could tell a lie - the words were engraved on the back of his hand for Christ's sake. And just look at where it got him with Ron and Hermione? It was a load of rubbish if you asked him.
There was a natural pull to sit next to Draco and have those witty grins thrown at him. Instead, the blonde sat isolated at the other end of the table with begrudging Snape of all people. And the only other seat available was the one to Dumblebore's left, probably by plan. The thought felt him uneasy. With one final secretive glance at Draco (Boyfriend, he reminded himself with a jolt leaving him feeling like a schoolyard girl) he took his seat.
"Happy Christmas, Harry. Would you join me for a small toast?"
He eyed him curiously and then McGonagall. He briefly wondered if she had been apart of the plot to leave him isolated at the Dursleys for years. He nodded, eyes hardened on the old wizard. He used to love the twinkling in his eyes, it had made him feel safe, but now he couldn't feel anything but frustration for it. As if he was some dumb kid and they knew something he didn't- he hated that.
Soon enough the Christmas feast began. The rest of the students, save for Draco, were talking merrily with one another over the gifts they received that morning. One was talking about a new broom he'd gotten and with a pain reminded him of Sirius.
He should be with his godfather right now. Sirius would be laughing and telling him exaggerated stories from their years in Hogwarts. The pain in his chest would fade to a dull ache at the thought of Ron and Hermione refusing to speak to him because Sirius would do what a parent was supposed to and comfort him. And Remus - his heart ached for him too. He wondered how he would be feeling as well right now. Sore from the full moon and missing him with an equal or worse throbbing pain than Harry's own. He wondered if he hadn't gone and fucked everything up, would the two ever tell them they were together? Would he had ever gotten to see those rare moments between the two in that ratty, old scrapbook? Would Harry be able to come home to them one day and introduce them to Draco, his boyfriend?
He's so caught up in his thoughts he doesn't notice when someones speaking to him.
"...do say. How come?"
McGonagall is staring at him with concern from the other side of the table. His mouth goes dry. "Excuse me, Professor?"
"I said the Weasleys are okay thanks to your quick wit. Their house was saved with hardly any damage and I'm sure they've sent you their thanks."
Harry avoids her gaze and looks down at his gravy-soaked, Christmas turkey. There was a mix of deep satisfaction and guilt seeping into his bones. He was indescribably grateful the Weasley's were okay, but he hadn't been able to do anything to help. If anything it was likely his fault they were attacked to begin with. And despite it, it was still not enough to get Ron to talk to him. He was desperate to hear anything, even anger, from the redhead…
"Yeah. Mrs. Weasley sent me tons of cookies with a threat to make sure I ate all of them. Cookies though? Is it too early to make jokes though, because..."
McGonagall gave a small laugh at that. It was the Christmas cheer that made her stern facade slip. Harry gave a small smile back to her in return.
"But I do say, how come you hadn't spent the holidays with them? I was under the impression you were quite looking forward to the holidays. You hadn't signed your name off on the list to stay."
Dumbledore was listening in now and he hadn't even made a show act like he wasn't. Though, he supposed, he could find out anything with Legilimency which only unsettled him further.
He fought the urge to look down the table at Draco. Did they know? Did Ron and Hermione tell them thinking Harry was under some kind of trick? His heart skipped a beat at that. Dumbledore knowing had to be the worse idea they had ever thought of.
There was a deep feeling Draco hadn't taken the news Hermione and Ron knowing despite what he was tried to pretend for Harry. Out of the two of them, it was more Draco's head on the line if they were found out. Harry had bad publicity before and he could take it. (Not that Draco couldn't either - he would just rather it be himself than him.) But Draco was neck deep in the wrong side of the war that wouldn't hesitate to do something rash to get close to Harry or hell, get revenge. Draco had told them before they left for Hogwarts that he'll be eaten alive by the Slytherins and while he hadn't seen it personally, Draco had told him about Crabbe, Goyle, and that band of 5th-year wanna-be death eaters having their 'heads so far up their arses they can taste their own bullshit'. And Draco's own family... Harry might not have one of his own, but he could tell Draco would still have that undeniable attachment to the people who had raised him. They were his parents, even if they were death eaters.
So, yes. Panic flowed through him at the thought of Dumbledore knowing.
He cleared his throat as best as he could, still not meeting their eyes to give anything away. "Last minute decision, I suppose. Had a row with Ronald and figured it'd be best to let him blow off some steam. Hermione said he'll realize he was being stupid sooner or later." It wasn't completely a lie so he figured it couldn't have been nearly as see-through as he felt it was.
McGonagall's expression was filled with sympathy. "Yes, yes. Well. I'm sure Molly and Arthur will be saddened to miss you this time."
Not if Ron opens his bloody mouth they won't, Harry thinks darkly.
Dinner goes for the most part, well. He popped open another cracker with McGonagall and the small Hufflepuff student leading to a tacky Christmas crown on his head and a couple of paper doves flying above them in the fake snow. Dobby also came out to help the other house-elves with dessert (a tradition apparently, instead of the suddenly appearing food like every other time) and thanked Harry tremendously for the neon green pair of socks that had tiny dinosaurs moving around on them. The house-elf had spotted Draco too but seemed to have enough common sense to thank the other privately later. Or Draco had sent him a threat not to do so.
Despite it, Harry was all too happy to crawl back into his dorm with Draco once it was over.
Merlin, it wasn't even the kissing (Though he was brilliant at it. How the hell was he so good at everything? It was unfair. He's sure as hell he knows he wasn't that good on his first-) It was like running on air just talking to him, and the sly smirk felt like zero-gravity. There was always another door, an unlocked secret, a hidden panel in the wall with him. No matter how close he thought he was close to discovering it all, there was always another room to be found.
He had slipped out of his seat to leave, eyeing Draco out of the corner of his eye, when Dumbledore finally makes his move. "Harry, would you mind following me back to my office?"
He hesitates. The only thing he can think is 'oh bollocks'.
Dumbledore smiles at him as if it'll quench his fear. "Nothing to fear, my boy. The walls are rather cold without all the students, aren't they? Didn't want you to feel as if you're alone. I just wondered if you'll entertain me for a cuppa?"
He wants to say no but that's the thing about Dumbledore, he has a way of getting exactly what he wanted. It paid to be the most powerful wizard alive. So Harry obliges and follows the older man out of the Great Hall. Harry hopes Draco spots them and gets the message that he was being carted off against his will.
'SOS!' He yells to the blonde inside his mind. 'Send help!'
"How are you?" Dumbledore says when they're alone saving for the portraits singing Christmas carols on the walls. The question takes him by surprise a bit.
"Sir?"
"Minerva tells me you're doing exceptional in class, save for Sybill's teachings of course. I've never had a knack for it myself either..."
He doesn't know exactly what Dumbledore's playing. They hadn't talked practically at all since the revelation of his hand in Harry's abuse. Now he was talking as if nothing happened.
"I guess. NEWT classes are a lot harder than I thought and it doesn't help that Snape is still dreadful in Defense. He doesn't even-" Harry stops himself. He wasn't about the start complaining to the headmaster like some whiny child. He could take care of it himself. "I'm handing myself fine, sir."
Dumbledore hums. "Yes, well I thought it was only best to give him the job after he'd been here so long. Perhaps I had made a mistake. Have you happened to have a conversation with our new potions master yet? I'd say he's rather excited to talk to you. He is, if I must say, demandant."
"Yeah? Well, tell him he'd have to take it to the back of the line. I'm not going to end up like Lockheart, signing and kissing photos of myself to anyone who asks," he huffs angrily. It only makes him think of Draco again and Bramble's revelation of him loving Harry when he was little. A ghost of a smile forms at his lips at the irony.
Dumbledore gives a merry laugh. "A right mind. His skills are top of the line in his profession despite his many faults though. His little club has never been in the right mind. Respect the person, not the power they do say."
Harry wonders where he's going with this. The man was too calculating to not have a point.
"Your mother," Dumbledore finally says, "she was apart of his little group. I'd never seen Horace fawn over another student without fame or glory already to their name like her."
That catches Harry's attention. He'd always been desperate for information about her. It was always his dad, not that he was complaining, but he hardly knew anything of her other than the fact she'd been smart and stubborn. He's certain Dumbledore knows that as well, but he plays the little game regardless.
"Slughorn knew my mother, sir?"
"Oh, yes. Very much. I didn't know her well during her school years but Horace always had a soft spot for her when he taught her. She was his favorite student from the first time she stepped foot in his classroom."
Harry takes a silent, deep breath. So his mother was good at potions. That was exactly the kind of information he'd always been desperate for. What was her favorite colour? Music? It was the tiny details that had meant the most.
But before he could ask any more questions he realizes they're at the gargoyle guarding Dumbledore's office. "Gumdrop," he says opening the large spiral staircase. The trip to the top was in silence. Harry's mind was too busy processing the new information and Dumbledore didn't bother to continue.
So when the door to the office opens, he's taken back by the two people already sitting there.
"Remus?"
The man looks exhausted and pale, yet he still manages a small smile at the sight of Harry. There are lines and scars all over his face making him look older than he was. Harry almost laughs at the comically large Christmas sweater on him knowing Mrs. Weasley had to have made it for him. They were matching, he thought with faint humor.
"'Ello. Happy Christmas, Harry," he says. His voice is rough when he says it and he assumes it's because of his transformation the night before. He had to be in a lot of pain.
"You shouldn't be here," Harry says before he can stop himself. Remus looks at him a bit taken back. "I just- you should be recovering from the moon…"
The person in the other chair snorts. "How touching. I told you he'd be a distraction."
"Now Severus…"
"It's ridiculous. He can hardly look after his own hide, how do expect-"
"Just because you can't look over your own nose doesn't excuse your reluctance to see what's right in front of you," Remus snaps at Snape in the same tone he used when he was a professor. He almost grins at Remus telling the foul git off before Remus turns to him. "And I also find that I'm quite capable of taking care of myself. What I can and can't manage it up for me to decide."
Dumbledore watches the scene with interest as he glides to his desk. Both men have enough respect for him to stop bickering at the gaze.
"Take a seat, Harry."
Again, he wants to say no. This definitely wasn't the setting just for a 'cuppa' so perhaps he accidentally entered another dimension when he walked through the door so in that case, he really oughta head back out the way he came to be sure. But he takes the seat to the right of Remus anyway.
He was beyond words happy to see him. He wasn't able to see Sirius, or Ron, or Hermione, or any of the Weasley's for Christmas but he had gotten Remus so he maybe he was a step higher than he thought from the ground bottom. And Remus had cared enough to see him despite being in pain. That alone was enough to mask some of the panic that was setting in his bones at the unfolding scene.
Godric's underwear. They know. How do they know?
"I am deeply sorry to bombard you like this my boy, but I'm afraid it's a necessary precaution," Dumbledore says across the desk pouring a cup of tea. He pushes a glass towards Harry which he ignores. "Tell me, Harry. What memory did you use the first time you tried to conjure your patronus?"
Harry blinks at that. That hadn't been what he was expecting. Was his an interrogation?
"Uh… I think it was the first time I rode a broomstick? I don't…"
Snape raises an eyebrow at the headmaster as if to say, 'See? I told you. He can't hardly tell the difference between his left and his right.'
"Who are you your two closest friends?"
Harry's frown deepened. What kind of integration question was that? Everyone knew that part...
"Ron and Hermione. Sir, what is going on?"
Snape snorts and Remus gives him a sympathetic glance. "Security measures."
Harry's grip tightens on the chair's padded air rest tightens. "What for? Is it because of Katie? She's supposed to coming back soon, right?"
Remus sighs, looking away from him and back to Dumbledore. He'd never been one to be able to handle heavier subjects.
"It seems," Dumbledore's tone goes grave, "that we have a spy inside the castle."
Harry's stomach shifts dramatically. He's suddenly aware of the taste of the bile in the back of his throat.
His mind races to put the pieces together. They had to be talking about Draco, right? They hadn't exactly been quiet in their suspicions. Why were they asking him though? Was it because Hermione and Ron told them? They probably thought he was bewitched as well. That made him feel sick. They were obviously wrong but who… It made sense. Someone had to have bewitched Katie earlier this year…
"Why are you telling me this, exactly?"
"Well, I've learned my lesson. I was simply wondering if you had any details you'd like to share. The inside scoop, you should say. I've spent enough time to realize you're usually a step or two ahead of us."
It was bait. It had to be. Because if they already knew it was Draco, why else were they asking him? Perhaps they had a reason to be suspicious seeing as they didn't know Draco the same way he did.
It was confusing and he didn't know how to respond. It was a fine line. Did they know or not?
Snape responds so he doesn't have to. "I told you, did I not? He's clueless. You've only tempted fate."
He doesn't know if he's insulted or grateful for the man at that moment.
Dumbledore eyes him thoroughly. Harry gulps. He tries to conjure what pitiful attempts of his occlumens shield just in case.
"He's smarter than you give him credit for."
"I beg you to look past your favoritism for once in your life. The only reason he's lived this long is sheer dumb luck." Snape says, glaring at Harry.
Harry zones out as the three men bicker. Hastily, he grabs the tea Dumbledore had given earlier to soothe his drying throat.
Hermione and Ron were always on his tail about Draco being a death eater before they found out. There had been a lot of evidence to suggest it even though Harry knew it was just some big misunderstanding. He was sighted at the attack at the inn, was gone when Katie was attacked, had relations to Voldemort. It should have made perfect sense.
Then a thought clicks to him he feels so incredibly stupid for not realizing it before. If Draco was the spy, they would already know. Snape was a spy and Draco's godfather. The Order would have access to that information already so why did Remus drop the information on them that they were suspicious of Draco? And if they didn't know in the first place, why specifically give them the information about Draco when the Order tried their hardest to keep them out of the loop on everything else? No, they must have had something to gain in telling them.
'I was simply wondering if you had any details you'd like to share. The inside scoop, you should say. I've spent enough time to realize you're usually a step or two ahead of us.'
Was it information? What did they think they knew that they didn't?
There was something big missing out of the puzzle and he was determined to find out.
