Author's Note: the summary for this fic will be changed because it's now a full-length fic. Just FYI :)
The usual disclaimer: not mine. xcept Charlotte. Who isn't in this chapter.
Destroy Me
Chapter 5 – the Redeemers
"What in the name of Merlin's left testicle are you wearing?" Draco said, his eyes wide and a horrified expression on his face.
"Isn't it great?" Blaise said, with a gigantic grin on his face. "I found it in a muggle shop. You wouldn't believe the sorts of things that they've invented without magic."
"Just because things are invented doesn't make them worthy of purchase." Draco relied, shivering from the horror.
"Relax, Drake, I promise I wont wear it in public. With you." Blaise said.
Draco just stared. It was a purple and lime green stripy hat with a propeller on top! To make it worse, the logo on the front was a gigantic strawberry. It was so bad it clashed with itself.
Blaise smirked an evil smirk that was the complete paradox of the hat and reached up to flick the propeller. It lazily spun around three times while Draco took a deep breath and closed his eyes.
"I can't look at it." He said, covering his eyes with his hand and jutting out his left him, a habit that he developed in his fifth year at Hogwarts. A habit that Blaise was very accustomed to, considering it was usually because of him that it happened.
Blaise grinned wickedly, but took the hat off.
"Fine," he said, "But you can't stop me from wearing the shirt I bought."
Draco shook his head, but gave in. Blaise's eccentricities were something that he'd been trying to contain for as long as he knew the boy. So far, Blaise was winning the battle, but this was all because Draco secretly loved the things Blaise did.
"You are two cans short of a picnic, you know that right?" Draco said affectionately.
Blaise just grinned and flicked the propeller again.
"Now do tell me where we can go party in this dismal place? I'm bored." He said.
"You've only been here for two minutes!" Draco exclaimed. "You haven't even unpacked yet."
"Unpacking in boring." Blaise replied and promptly walked from the living room where he apparated into the kitchen. He opened all the cupboards and made a face at all the 'healthy' things Draco had there.
"There is jack all in the flavour of junk food in your place. What the hell have you been surviving off this whole time? Crasin cookies and almonds? Draco, what has become of you?" Blaise said, holding the box that Draco had bought earlier in the hopes of detoxifying his body of all the beer, crisps and shit that he's been eating since leaving home.
With a roll of his eyes, Draco snatched the box from his hand and dumped it into the trash bin.
"Teach me how to live, then." Draco said to the brunette.
Blaise's face blossomed into the most wicked grin.
"I've been waiting a long time for you to say that." He said.
For a moment, Draco regretted saying it. He knew Blaise's ideas of fun, and they usually ended in jail or in bed with random strangers. Or in bed with each other. But then he saw bright green eyes swimming in the back of his mind and decided he would do anything Blaise said just to get those goddamn emeralds out of his head.
"What do I need to do?" Draco asked slowly.
"Get dressed." Blaise relied.
That didn't sound so bad to Draco.
oOo
"What have you got for me?" Harry asked the young boy that was waiting at the corner of two alleys in the warehouse district.
The tiny little boy whipped around with a scared expression on his face but when he saw Harry, he relaxed and slipped the silver knife that he was holding back into the holster inside his coat.
The boy wasn't more than 13 years old, with dirty light blonde hair that was bleached by the summer sun, and an ensemble of stained sweaters under a brown jacket and cuffed shoes.
"I've got the numbers, Harry. But it's still not enough." The little boy said.
"Let's see." Harry said, holding out his hand. The boy handed him a black folio case with no label and quickly stepped back, as though afraid that the Vampire might strike him. Of course, Jack Mulciber (because that was the boy's name) knew that Harry would never touch him, but he was still only 13, and being so young, and in the situation he was in, he was jumpy about everything. He looked down the alley that Harry had come down, and then to the left and right of the street behind him to make sure there was nobody suspicious looking there.
One could wonder why a boy so young was this paranoid, but Harry already knew, and he also knew there was no point in comforting the boy. Jack Mulciber was the son of a now deceased Death Eater. And he was the messenger sent today from the group that called themselves the Redeemers.
The Redeemers were all children of past or dead Death Eaters who knew there was no way that they could get back into the good graces of modern Wizard Society. They may be innocent, but their parents were not, and the Wizarding World was very good at holding grudges. The five children, led by Theodore Nott, were doing all they could to survive in the merciless underground because they had no where else to go. When Harry contacted them with his proposal, they were cautious, but realised that this was maybe a ticket out of the cold.
Harry Potter's new business deal wasn't the most virtuous, but it got him what he needed (if it could ever be financed) and the group of Redeemers could help him. For a price. But a price well worth paying.
Harry sighed. The figures in the folio were not good. In fact, they were dead depressing. If only he could get his parents' fortune from the Gringotts vault he would be able to get this project off the ground, but there was no way he could prance into the bank after two years of being suspiciously gone and ask for the money.
No, there had to be a way to get the money he needed. The only problem with getting money was that it would involve even more people into his project, and this wasn't something Harry wanted to do. He wanted people he could trust. And crazy as it was, he trusted the Redeemers.
"Jack." Harry said, after closing the folio and stuffing it into an inside pocket.
"Yes, Harry?" the boy answered.
"I'm going to give you a list of names and numbers. You're going to give this list to Theo and ask him to call these people. Numbers 7-10 are French, so you're going to have to ask Madeleine to talk to them, but I need him to ask for the same think he asked before, right? Can you do that for me, Jack?" Harry explained patiently.
"Right, I'll do it. Give Theo the names and get him to call. Same deal. Got it." The little boy repeated. With a small sigh, he folded the list of names that Harry had given him and added it to the inside pocket along with the knife holster.
Harry then pulled out a sandwich that he picked up at a Deli on the way and handed it to the boy. He knew that this was probably the only supper they was going to get, so he always got some food for whoever the messenger was. Jack grabbed the sandwich and mumbled an embarrassed 'thanks', then ran across the street and out of sight.
Harry leaned against the grimy wall and started after the boy. It was nearly midnight. The streets were yellow from the nasty streetlight glare and the ground was wet again from the afternoon showers.
There was something strange in the air in London. Even the Muggles were beginning to notice it. It was cold, and there was rain almost everyday. The news predicted some sort of citywide cooling that had something to do with air drifts and wind currents but Harry had his doubts. He knew something was coming… but for once, he didn't care. He had defeated the Dark Lord, and that was his claim on life. Now he was a Vampire, trying to start an illegal project with a bunch of Death Eater children and he simply didn't care what happened to the Wizarding World.
After becoming a vampire against his will, his unhappiness with all of Wizardkind had multiplied. After everything he's been through, defeating the 'greatest evil' and then some, he was turned into a blood-sucking monster. It was unfair. And it made him feel like he was five years old to complain about it, but this was how he felt.
So he sighed, and walked down the street that he knew led out of the Warehouse District and took the all-too familiar route down to Grimmauld Place. He did this all the time now. Ever since he came back to London. Just to remind him of what he used to have, and how he couldn't hurt the people who he loved by returning.
The walk was long, but Harry had nowhere else to be, so he took his time. The streets were empty by the time he got to the residential area in which Grimmauld Place was situated. It was nearly three in the morning, but there were still some lights on in the houses here.
And to Harry's great surprise, there were lights on in number 12, which slid from between 11 and 13 as he walked past. Harry stopped and blinked a few times to make sure he wasn't seeing things.
Nope, definitely lights. And then there were people inside. Harry could see them moving around through the curtains.
He walked up to the house. The downstairs window was the one where he saw movement. Harry bit his lip and tried to regain his composure. What if it was just Kreacher, and he was just getting his hopes up?
But it wasn't Kreacher. It was Hermione Granger. It was one of Harry's best friends from school standing in his Drawing Room unpacking boxes of silverware and chipped china.
Harry walked right up to the window. The curtains were opened but there was a crack to see into the room, and with Harry's Vampire senses he could hear what they were saying.
"…no, Ron, you cant put the cups into there! That one still needs to be cleaned. God, look at it, there must be a village of dust living in that one cupboard."
"Yeah, it's too bad Kreacher is still working at Hogwarts, he would have loved to clean his precious House of Black." Ron replied.
"Ron! House elves shouldn't have to clean – "
"Oh, calm down Hermione. Kreacher would have loved to help clean. I thought you said he was a much nicer elf now that we're nice to him?" Ginny said, coming into the room with a box labelled 'cleaning supplies'.
"Yeah, but the only one who could call him was Harry, so tough luck for you Ron, you'll actually have to clean something." Hermione relied with a smirk.
"Well, doesn't that mean that Harry's still alive?" Ginny asked, biting her lip, she knew how much the other two don't like to talk about Harry dead. "I mean, if he weren't here, wouldn't control of Kreacher go to someone else?"
"Harry never left a will, Ginny." Hermione said quietly, so that Harry had to press his face to the window.
"Yeah, but doesn't the fact that Kreacher isn't free mean that Harry isn't dead?" Ginny asked.
"Maybe," Hermione said, with a sigh. "But we'll never know for sure."
Ron took the feather duster out of the box but then looked up at the two girls.
"We'd know if he were dead. Someone would have reported it." He said, for what felt like the fiftieth time in the past two years. They have had this discussion over and over for months but it just ended the same every time. Nobody knew where Harry was, or if he was alive or if he was even the same Harry that they knew from two years ago.
Even after the war was over and Harry moved into Grimmauld Place, he was changing. He was distant, even from Ginny, whom he always talked to. He was still trying to come to terms with what happened at the end of the war, the death's, and the pain. All of his friends could tell he wasn't doing great, but this didn't explain the mysterious disappearance only two weeks after he moved into Grimmauld Place.
"Ron, I think the dust is alive in this place." Hermione finally broke the silence. " I think it's moving."
Ginny giggled and Ron raised his eyebrows.
"Don't worry ladies, I'll protect you from the evil dust bunnies of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black." Ron said in a mock aristocratic way, with a bow.
Both girls laughed and started to grab supplies from the box of cleaning things.
"We have three days, guys. We can do this." Hermione said with a manic look in her eyes.
"Aw, come on Hermione, it's nearly four in the morning." Ron whined.
"You woke up at four in the afternoon!" Ginny said with a playful punch to her brother's shoulder.
"So?" Ron said, rubbing the spot and shaking his head.
"Oh, Ron." Hermione said with a roll of her eyes.
Harry couldn't take anymore. Those were his friends. The friends he hasn't seen of heard in years, and being this close and not being able to go join in on their fun almost brought tears to Harry's eyes.
He tore himself away from the window and stumbled through the uncut grass to the street. They were here. They were living in London. In his house.
Harry shook his head as if trying to get rid of the image of their happy faces. It was so much easier to live in the darkness and not see them than it was to remember. Ignorance truly was bliss.
Harry took one last look at the house and walked down the street to the City Centre where he could take the sewers to the Coop.
Harry didn't even realise that the rain had started up again. The light drizzle of translucent drops caressed him and blended with the salt water already on his face.
AN: I'm not quite sure when the next update will be, because I'm working on a few oneshots, but I'm hoping to write the next chapter in about two weeks. Please review, it makes me happy. :)