Ron was the one who suggested that they had gone as far as they could go with talking, and perhaps finding some dinner ought to be a priority. It would be Ron. He was even taller and skinnier than Draco was these days, and looked as if he could eat an entire roasted Hippogriff without setting his fork down once. But everyone else agreed that they were hungry too, and it was time to go.
When Harry stood up, he reached down to take Draco's hand and help him up, too. Draco was surprised and touched by the gesture, which Harry made so casually that Draco did not think either Ron or Hermione had noticed it. He would have liked to keep hold of Harry's hand as they walked down to the pub, but he did not know how Harry would respond and did not want to risk a rejection. Harry had been quite clear that he was uninterested in having Draco for a boyfriend, after all.
Over dinner, the four of them discussed when and where they should next meet. Draco was reluctant to set a fixed schedule. It was not that he was apprehensive about Hermione or Ron turning up unexpectedly, he told himself, it was simply that he thought flexibility would be better. In case a Death Eater somehow found them, for instance. In the end he persuaded the three Gryffindors to see things his way, and they agreed to use the fake Galleon with a Protean Charm once again, on Tuesday. Ron and Hermione would meet Harry and Draco on Wednesday evening.
The least involved in the conversation was Ron, eating with great appetite. He wrinkled his nose at the lager that he tried, though, and suggested he might bring them some Butterbeers the next week. Harry said it was a great idea, but Ron should be sure to carry them concealed so that no Muggles would notice. Ron took offense at the implication that he would be so careless, and Harry apologized. Their interactions were so different from what Draco was accustomed to with his own friends that he was fascinated. Clearly Harry really cared about how Ron felt, even when it was over something unimportant. Draco would never have apologized to – for instance – Crabbe about such a thing. He wondered if someday Harry would act the same towards him.
Walking back to the hostel, Draco let himself fall a bit behind the others, listening to Harry and Hermione talk. She had managed, by dint of persuasion buttressed with a Memory Charm, to get the hostel staff to change the two-person room booked for Harry and Draco to a four-person room, so that they could all share. Inevitable perhaps, though Draco wished it had been otherwise. He tried to act pleased, however, when he saw Harry looking at him, and luckily it fell out that he would sleep next to Harry and across from Hermione, the best arrangement possible in the circumstances.
Ron and Hermione both went off to the bathrooms, and Draco decided to take advantage of their absence to change into the green shirt he had been wearing to sleep in. It was long enough to fall to mid-thigh, so he could keep wearing his jeans for the time being and slip out of them discreetly later. As he pulled the shirt on, he said, "Harry?" He meant to ask if Harry had any ideas about where to go the next day – not wanting the whole week planned out did not mean he wanted every decision to be last-minute – but before he could continue, Harry's arms were wrapped around him.
The move was so unanticipated that Draco froze momentarily before he returned Harry's embrace. "We really can't, though," he murmured into Harry's shoulder. Much as Draco wanted to hold Harry like this, he could not imagine how Ron, or worse, Hermione, might react if either of them should walk in just now.
"I know," said Harry. The regret in his voice made it easier for Draco to step away. As he did so, Harry leaned forward and kissed him on the edge of his ear. It felt most peculiar. Draco could not help but laugh, and Harry laughed too at the absurdity.
They were still chuckling when Ron opened the door, asking what was so funny. Draco decided to let Harry handle that one, and eased his way out into the corridor in search of the boys' toilets. Coming back again, he passed Harry, who now looked quite calm. He must have thought of something good to explain their laughter to Ron. Draco winked at him, returning to the room to find that Ron was wearing loud orange pyjamas, and Hermione a surprisingly revealing yellow nightgown. Draco had no interest whatsoever in her, of course, but he could not help noticing that she really had quite a good figure, better than Pansy Parkinson's. Ron must have thought so too, because his fact was pink and he was making a point of not looking at Hermione directly, although with Draco there he seemed to relax a bit. Now that he was in the room for the night, Draco took off his jeans, folded them, and put them next to his rucksack on the floor, ready for tomorrow.
Of all of them, only Harry had not yet changed for bed. When he returned seemed embarrassed about it, asking them to look away so he could. Draco was not going to miss such an opportunity. He watched Harry strip, only smiling when Harry glared at him, confident that Harry would not give them away by speaking.
His buoyant mood was deflated a moment later, though, when Harry said, "Draco, we three have to discuss something together, without you."
Well, he could have said so earlier. "Should I leave?" Draco began to reach for his folded jeans. He was not about to go wandering around the hostel in only a t-shirt and his underpants.
"No, you don't have to." Harry went to sit on Hermione's bed and whispered to her for a minute.
Suddenly Draco's ears were filled with a peculiar buzzing sound. He rubbed them, but it did not abate, and he realized that one of the three must have cast a charm so that he would be unable to hear their conversation. Ron was over there now as well. Draco pulled out his wand and idly began levitating one of Harry's socks. It was amazing how untidy Harry was; the sock had migrated over next to Draco's bed. He put the sock through its paces for a while, just as if he were back in Professor Flitwick's first-year Charms class. Being shut out like this annoyed him. For his entire life, Draco had been the one to decide who to let in on secrets and who to exclude. The reversal was most irritating. Could he prevent it from happening again? Not unless he could convince them, Hermione and Ron that was, to trust him, as Harry already appeared to, mostly. Draco thought. He would have to demonstrate somehow that he was trustworthy. Ron had been patently dubious about Draco's reassurances earlier, on their way back from the newsagent's. So how could Draco change their minds?
In a flash it came to him, clear and simple. An Unbreakable Vow. If he made one of those to Harry, the Gryffindors would have to believe he was telling the truth. Such a Vow could be dangerous, Draco knew, but he had been in danger for so long now that it seemed petty to mind hazarding a bit more. So when the buzzing in his ears stopped, before anyone else could speak, he said, "I've something to say before you three do anything else. I know you don't really trust me, but I can overcome that. Do any of you know how to act as the Bonder for an Unbreakable Vow?"
That was the tricky part. If none of them knew the spell, the idea would be unworkable, because Draco could hardly be his own Bonder. He hoped that if anyone else knew, it would be Hermione. He preferred to make the Vow to Harry. If only Harry knew how to cast the spell, though, Draco would have to make it to someone else instead.
Luck was with him. Hermione reluctantly admitted to knowing it, though she warned that she had never actually performed it before.
Draco stood in the middle of the crowded Muggle room, wearing only his t-shirt and underwear, holding the hand of an equally lightly clad, rumple-haired Harry Potter. Ludicrous, and yet it felt gloriously right. As Hermione's wand shot out streams of red flame that coiled and braided themselves around his and Harry's hands, he said, "I swear I will be loyal to you, Harry Potter, even," he swallowed hard, "even above my own family. I swear I will not betray you to Voldemort or any Death Eater, or repeat to your harm anything you say. I swear I will do my best to help and protect you in any need."
That last statement might have gone too far, Draco thought. Who defined "any need," when it came down to it? What if Harry decided he needed, oh, a packet of chocolate biscuits? Would Draco be obliged to get them for him? Or what if the need was for something far less innocuous? He shivered. The promises he had made to Lord Voldemort when he was sealed with the Dark Mark surged through his mind. But those were not made as Unbreakable Vows, he reminded himself. Draco was not foresworn to his death by this – he was already under that sentence, as far as Voldemort was concerned.
Ron was asking him, "Does it feel different?"
"A little," said Draco. "Not in a bad way." That was a half-truth. He could still sense the fiery chain of the bond around his wrist, not hurting, but there, reminding him of his oath. He knew that if he broke any part of the vow it would constrict, moving upward on his body until it wrapped around his neck and he died of it. To distract himself from the thought of something he never intended to let happen, he asked what the three of them had been talking about.
Horcruxes, they told him. Draco knew in a vague sort of way what Horcruxes were, and was horrified that evidently they were part of Voldemort's technique for obtaining immortality. Six Horcruxes? A soul split into seven parts? It was a frightening, even revolting, idea. And the Horcruxes could be anything, hidden anywhere, though Harry insisted that two had already been destroyed and that he planned to find and destroy the remainder so that Voldemort himself would be at last vulnerable to death.
It was impossible, foolish, and Draco made no bones about saying so. "You're mad. Absolutely barking mad." But this was Harry, who accomplished the seemingly impossible – and it could not all be due to luck as Professor Snape had said, oh no – Harry to whom Draco had just pledged himself, and so he said, "What can I do to help?"
Harry asked him to think about anything he might ever have heard or overheard from his father or the elder Malfoy's friends about places that Voldemort frequented, where he might possibly have hidden his Horcruxes. Draco could recall nothing useful immediately, but promised to search his memory.
By now it was very late. They all heard a distant bell toll twice, and Hermione got up to switch out the electric lights. She and Ron planned to leave early to start whatever investigations they could at the Ministry.
Draco found it difficult to get to sleep. He forced himself to lie still, breathing deeply and evenly, in the hope that sheer boredom would send him off, but his mind kept racing. Had it been right to make the Unbreakable Vow? Had it been wise? Probably not the latter. His father would disapprove, Draco was certain. Such an action was a commitment beyond that of Lucius Malfoy to Lord Voldemort – if he even felt that tie any more, after a year in Azkaban.
Aunt Bellatrix had remained loyal for more than a decade, but she was mad, Draco thought. She had visited his mother last summer. It was supposed to be secret, but he had found out and eavesdropped on the two sisters. Oh yes, definitely mad. No sane person had quite that restless energy, nor that frantic fixation on a single purpose. Whereas Draco's father was much more reasoned in his support. If Lord Voldemort came to power, the Malfoys could reap rich rewards as his supporters, but Lucius Malfoy had also been careful to maintain good relations with select and important Ministry of Magic officials, just in case.
Draco knew his father would expect him to act in similar fashion, but today's vow prevented that: he had committed himself irrevocably to help Harry, over his own family if need be. Not wise, no. His father's anger, his mother's disappointment, would be terrible when they learned of it, even though his purpose was to protect them, ultimately, as much as himself.
Until that could happen, what had he bound himself to? Could he think about breaking the Vow? Experimentally, Draco considered going back to Spinner's End, imagining himself speaking to Professor Snape about Harry and his search for the Horcruxes. His breath seemed to constrict, as if an invisible cord had tightened around his neck. Quickly he put the idea aside, thinking instead about how Harry and he had practiced their hexes and jinxes together, ready to use them against any Death Eater who might attack. The tightness in his throat eased immediately. It appeared that the Vow had worked, that Hermione had indeed cast it properly despite her misgivings.
So – he was to be loyal to Harry, now. The thought bothered him less than perhaps it should have done, shockingly un-Slytherin as it was. Instead it felt inevitable. Harry was as flawed, as human, as anyone else. These days in his company had taught Draco that, but Harry was nonetheless sincere in his wish to do right, and conviction carried its own strength and potency. Attaching himself to someone else's power, rather than the other way around, was for Draco a new experience, but perhaps this was what he had lacked and sought for all his time at Hogwarts – not to lead, but to be led, by someone he could trust and respect. And, Draco admitted most privately, by someone he fancied. Power and potency – the old Romans knew what they were about, with their word potens meaning both those things. Come to think of it, taking the Unbreakable Vow had sealed him to Harry in ways stronger than a marriage. He wondered if Harry had realized the implications of what he had permitted Draco to do.
Three strokes of the bell. He would never get to sleep at this rate. Draco rearranged his pillow and tried once more to clear his mind. This time he at last succeeded in drifting off.
Morning came far too early for his taste, but he put on as cheerful a face as he could manage. Hermione and Ron decided to go back to the Weasleys' for breakfast.
"Mum'll be frantic to find out how you are, Harry. You know how she gets. If I'm lucky she'll cook a specially good breakfast just thinking about wanting to feed you up, so I'd better give her the chance to do it," Ron grinned.
"You will let us know Tuesday where to meet the next evening, won't you?" said Hermione.
"'Course I will. Or actually Draco will, he's the one who can manage that charm better," Harry said, shoving the last of his things into his rucksack. "Don't worry about it. If you get really desperate about getting in touch before then, you could send Hedwig with a message, so long as you warned her to be careful about being seen."
Draco felt a glow of pleasure at Harry's compliment. He finished stowing his wand in his own pack and made one final sweep around the room to check for anything left behind. There seemed to be nothing, astonishingly enough, not even something of Harry's.
They left the hostel and stood awkwardly on the front lawn.
"Guess we should go. G'bye, Harry," Ron said. Hermione shifted her weight and must have nudged him, because he added, "G'bye, er, Draco."
"See you on Wednesday, and good luck with the Ministry and the Aurors, you two," said Draco.
"Goodbye, Harry, goodbye, Draco," Hermione said. "I hope those books I brought help you with the Mark."
"Yeah," said Harry, "we'll do what we can. See you in a few days then."
Ron and Hermione strolled around to the side of the building, where they could not be seen by any Muggles in the street, before Disapparating. Harry looked at Draco. "Ready for some breakfast?"
"Definitely," said Draco.
"I thought we could go find a café or something. We need to decide what to do today, and where to go." Harry slung his rucksack and sleeping bag over his shoulders. "Come on."
They found a cheap place – Draco conscious of the fact that although he could now pay his own way for a time, he did not have the kinds of funds Harry did. It was difficult to feel himself under obligation, even if Harry had been invariably gracious about it. Draco had never before had to worry about money. His parents had always been generous with pocket money, and at Hogwarts there was not much to spend it on, the occasional trip to Hogsmeade excepted. Oh, he could have sent away for things through the Owl Post if he had wanted, but it never seemed necessary. Draco hated clutter in his dormitory: he had to yell at Crabbe and Goyle all the time to keep their part of the room tidy as it was. No point in adding to it himself. So what with one thing and another, Draco had accumulated a fair pile of unspent Galleons in his chest back at Hogwarts, left behind of course on the night he fled, and now quite unobtainable. Unless...
"Hey, Harry." Draco poked at a sausage with the edge of his fork, watching it roll into the beans. "If Hermione is going to tell Professor McGonagall about me, how do you think she'll react?"
Harry finished chewing a bite of toast and swallowed. "She doesn't tend to get overly upset about things, and it'll be Hermione telling her, she likes Hermione. All the teachers know you weren't the one who," he paused and looked around the crowded room, "well, you know, they know that Snape did it, because I saw and told them. So I think she'll be reasonable. Why?"
"Well, I left everything behind that night. Clothes. Money. All that. So it occurred to me that maybe there'd be some way to get it, now. Have the house-elves pack up a few things, and perhaps Hermione would be willing to bring them," said Draco.
"Hermione ask the house-elves? Hah," said Harry sourly, keeping his voice low to prevent being overheard. "Don't you remember S.P.E.W.? The Society for the Promotion of Elvish Welfare that she founded in fourth year? I thought she'd gone after the Slytherins along with everyone else to join. She thinks house-elves are terribly mistreated and overworked. But hang on a minute, I have an idea. Or – no," he said. "I forgot that Hogwarts is closed down over the summer, it's only with special permission that Hermione is getting in to use the library."
"What were you thinking?" asked Draco, stirring sugar into his tea.
"There's a house-elf there that likes you, but has to take orders from me," said Harry. At Draco's stare, he added, "I'll explain about that later sometime. But he'd be delighted to get anything of yours you wanted, I'm sure, if we can just figure out how to get a message to him."
"It's not that urgent. I can wait till we see Hermione on Wednesday anyhow," Draco said. He was astounded to hear that Harry somehow owned a house-elf. Did he own a house, then? How? Where? Since when?
They finished their breakfasts and left, wandering aimlessly as they talked.
"Any ideas about where to go today?" Harry asked.
Draco shrugged. "We went to the best place I know of already. There's a couple of other possibilities, though, how about somewhere in Wales?"
"That sounds good," agreed Harry, "if it's not in a town. I don't think we want to work on altering the Mark where any Muggles might come by unexpectedly."
"No, the place I have in mind is remote," said Draco. "My father took me there once. I'm fairly sure I can find it again." He thought it over and decided he had better explain. "He was looking at it as a possible place to conceal some things, you understand, Dark Arts stuff. There's a kind of a cave. But he decided it wasn't secure enough."
"As long as you can get us there," said Harry.
They had drifted down a side street in their walking. Draco looked around and saw no one in sight, so he took Harry's hand and Apparated them to the mountain side he remembered.
It was misty, and colder than Draco had expected. He pulled out one of Mr. Granger's long-sleeved shirts and put it on over his t-shirt. Harry was doing the same, hauling out a jumper for himself.
"We should Scourgify our clothes tonight," said Draco, looking at the sleeve of Harry's jumper. It bore a stain that resembled dried blood, but was probably just tomato sauce.
Harry rolled his eyes. "Did you say there was a cave here?"
"Up there," pointed Draco. "But there aren't any paths nearby for Muggles to get here, so I shouldn't think we need to go sit in the cave. There's nothing there."
"How'd your father know about it?"
"I've no idea," said Draco. "He didn't end up leaving anything in the cave, though, I told you."
"Yeah, but it's just possible Voldemort knew of it. I want to look and see. Not that I think it's a likely hiding spot for a Horcrux, but just on the chance," Harry said, turning and walking up through the trees.
Draco followed. The opening into the hillside was narrower than he had recalled, and the wind had half-blocked it with piled debris. Harry went in first, holding his wand up and muttering the Lumos charm to let them see.
As Draco expected, there was nothing to see. A small cave, with irregular rocky walls and a floor of wind-blown dirt, scattered with leaves and twigs and a few gnawed bones. Perhaps a fox or a feral dog had used it as a den sometime, but it seemed unoccupied now.
Harry was standing in the center of the space, his eyes closed, looking disappointed.
"What are you doing?" Draco asked.
Slowly Harry opened his eyes. "Dumbledore could tell if there were traces of magic lingering in a place. I just thought I'd see if I could sense any. Can you?"
This was a skill Draco had never attempted. He shut his eyes and concentrated, not sure how it worked or what he expected, but nothing intruded itself on his notice.
"I don't think so," he said. "Have you ever felt magic traces anywhere else?"
"No," admitted Harry. "I suppose it takes practice. I wonder if it would be part of Auror training, seems like it would be useful for them."
"It would," Draco agreed. "But if there's anything here, neither you nor I can tell. Shall we go back outside?" The closeness of the cave walls was making him feel ill at ease.
At least it was not raining, grey and misty though the morning was. Harry fished out one of the books that Hermione had given him, Trials and Transfigurations, and sat down cross-legged with it on his lap. Draco dropped to the ground next to Harry and looked over his shoulder.
"Don't do that," said Harry. "Please."
"All right, give me the book and you look over my shoulder," said Draco, taking it, "because it doesn't bother me." He flipped to the table of contents. "Chapter five, maybe? 'Partial Transfiguration'?"
They read at nearly the same speed, Draco discovered, or else Harry was being terribly polite and careful not to ask to have a page turned before Draco was ready. Though Draco was perhaps slower than usual, given that he kept being distracted by Harry's shoulder brushing his own, or Harry's breath on his cheek, smelling faintly of tomato and sausage still.
This was a type of Transfiguration that they had not yet studied in the N.E.W.T. class, and the principles were quite complex.
"I'm not sure I understand this bit," said Harry, pointing at a section labeled 'Controlling the Osmotic Tendency.' "Do you?"
"No," Draco said, rubbing his temples. "Maybe we should take a break for a while. You can tell me about this mysterious house-elf at Hogwarts that has to take your orders." He half-expected the elf in question to be Dobby, his own family's former servant, since he knew that it was Harry's fault that Dobby had been freed.
So it was a surprise to Draco when Harry said, "Kreacher belonged to the Black family."
"The Blacks?" Draco put the book down and scooted around to face Harry. "What does my mother's family have to do with you?"
"Sirius Black was my godfather," said Harry. Draco saw his throat work. "When he died, there were no more heirs in the direct male line, and he willed the family house to me. Kreacher came along with it, much to his disgust, but he's bound to obey me. He's been at Hogwarts for the past year though. There were... reasons why it seemed better not to leave him on his own at the Black house, but it's complicated and we needn't go into that at present." Harry's lips twitched. "Actually, he'd probably be delighted to do anything if you asked it, if he didn't realize that you were a blood traitor now too. He thought he should have passed to your mother's branch of the family."
Blood traitor? Draco had not thought about his actions in those terms, but he supposed it was accurate enough. Uncomfortably, he said, "Still the same problem with getting to him to give an order, though, since we can't actually get into Hogwarts right now."
Harry nodded. "I don't really trust Kreacher, but if we were able to get him to believe you were giving me orders, he'd be so happy that it would probably be all right. I'd ask Dobby to keep an eye on him, too, as a safeguard."
"Dobby?" So Harry did have some kind of contact with the former Malfoy house-elf.
"Yeah," said Harry. "Look, your father was really mistreating him, and he was trying to save my life... so when I had a chance, I made sure he got free, as that's what he wanted. He's been at Hogwarts ever since."
Draco remembered several occasions when he had been less than kind to Dobby himself, although he had never actively tormented the house-elf. Still, he doubted that Dobby would recall him with affection. "If we ever do get the chance to go to Hogwarts, you'd better talk to Dobby alone, and let me handle Kreacher," he said.
"That's what I thought," said Harry. He pushed up his glasses, slipping as always crookedly down his nose. "Want to try again with the Transfiguration book?"
"I'd rather not," said Draco truthfully, "but we ought to. It must be nearly lunchtime though?"
"Past it," Harry said, looking at his watch. "But I was thinking that it would make more sense to stay here till late afternoon, and then go find someplace to stay and have an early dinner, than to leave now, have lunch, come back... you know?"
"All right. Back to the Transfiguration. Maybe we should look at one of the other books for a change, see if it's clearer," said Draco.
"How about Tricky Transfigurations?" said Harry, pulling out a fat blue volume and handing it over.
They read until after four o'clock, occasionally pausing to discuss one of the more difficult sections of the book, which did indeed prove less confusing than the first one, if not precisely simple to follow. Draco was still unconvinced that they would succeed in altering the Mark, given that his father had never managed it. But once they understood more thoroughly how they might attempt it, he was willing to give it a try. Now, however, he was famished and more than ready to go to Bangor when Harry suggested they had studied enough for the day.