Chapter Twenty-Eight: Truth and Trust
While their intentions had been good, last minute study sessions took up the whole of their weekend. Harry put the idea of heading into the Otherworld off until the end of their OWLs, while Draco fumed over both his textbooks and his failed plans.
Umbridge's class did little to help their study for the upcoming tests. All attempts at review were shot down with the same glittering smile that never seemed to leave the woman's face. Harry had tried to re-read his old Defense text during class once, and ended up receiving his first "black mark" for his troubles. The fact that Umbridge also wrote to tell Sirius of his insubordination had a strange perk to the situation – in Sirius' mind, if Harry was acting up in class then he was starting to show his old Gryffindor spirit, which validated everything in Sirius' mind.
Harry never did respond to his godfather's proud, rambling letter. He got through the first paragraph and had to set it down. He had yet to read the rest.
The OWLs came on like a storm; there was no more time for preparation, no more time to re-read the marked passages in their notes – the examiners came early in the morning on Monday and left them exhausted, barely conscious, on Friday.
"If this is how bad the OWLs are, I don't want to take the NEWTs." Harry lay on one of the long couches, head on Draco's lap. He threw an arm across his eyes with a sigh.
Draco was slumped in his seat, tie askew and the top button of his shirt undone. His hair was mussed, but by none of Harry's doing – their last test had been Defense Against the Dark Arts and their examiners had been rather…vigorous in their testing.
"I give up," the blond rubbed the heels of his palms into his eyes. "Who needs test results in politics? I'll leave now and live on the family's ridiculous fortune for the rest of my life."
"Oh, don't be so dramatic, Draco," Pansy flipped her hair over her shoulder. She had Millicent trapped in front of her, hands spread with wet polish on her nails. "Quit moving, Millie. You'll smudge them."
"They're pink, Pansy."
"I love pink!"
Millicent let out a sigh, but said nothing.
The sound of a cane on the tile entrance caused Harry to tense. Draco's hand found its way into his hair, but it did little to relax him.
"Harry?"
He didn't want to open his eyes. "Yes, Ginny?"
"…I have a letter from Father."
"I got a letter from Sirius today too, Ginny."
"Harry…" He heard her sigh. The others were all silent around them. They'd all had their own ideas about what Harry should do to solve his problems with Ginny.
"I'm really tired, Gin. Can't this wait?"
"You're always tired."
"Well, yes."
"Harry, Sirius is sending Healer Fondorn this weekend."
That caused him to sit up with a jerk. "What?" He turned to her.
The set of her mouth was familiar. Harry had seen it many times on Sirius'. "He's coming to do a check up on you."
"But…" Harry swung his feet to the floor. "I don't need a check up."
"Well that's what you get for ignoring your letters," the girl narrowed her eyes at him. "You've worried Father, Harry. He cares for you enough to do this –"
"All right, Ginny. All right." Harry held up a hand to forestall another lecture on his poor behavior. Ginny sniffed, turned on her heel and limped away. Harry watched her go, feeling sore places in his heart he had no name for. Things weren't supposed to be this way, he closed his eyes for a moment. They weren't.
"She's jealous, you know." Pansy never took her eyes off Millicent's hands.
"What?"
"Ginny." A swift glance up at him and then away. "Your godfather really knows how to muck things up."
"Sirius is…" Harry fell back against the couch with a sigh. "He's a Gryffindor."
"If that wasn't the truth," Pansy rolled her eyes. "I don't know what he's done to her to make her so insecure –"
"Sirius would never hurt her!"
She sent him a sharp look for interrupting. "He wouldn't mean to. But your godfather's a fool. He's tried too hard to be too much, and he's left her feeling inadequate."
"But…Sirius loves her." Harry didn't know why he was bothering to protest.
"You know that, he knows that." Pansy agreed. "Ginny, from what she's told me, doesn't quite know that yet."
"But…"
"It takes time," Pansy capped the polish bottle and set it aside. "She was shattered by the Weasleys and then Sirius was there to sweep in and become her hero. Problem is, he's never been a father, so he's taking all the examples he knows and winging it. And he's doing a pretty poor job of it."
"You mean the Healer?"
"That man's a fraud, Harry," Draco interjected. "He's a fool and a gossip monger. The Blacks should have sacked him from the start."
"Sirius trusts him," Harry could only shrug. "The man was nice to Sirius when he was little. Sirius thinks the man can do no harm."
"Well, he obviously can," Draco curled an arm around Harry and drew him closer. They ignored Pansy's coo and Millicent's snort.
"There's no helping it," Harry scrubbed his hands over his face. "We'll have to plan around it."
"It'll be fine."
"I hate that man."
Draco's arm tightened around him. "Well, remember, he'll have to enter the dungeons first. If he gets too much, we'll sic Severus on him. How's that?"
Harry blinked at the image. Then he began to smile. Their laughter chased the last of the tension from the room.
qpqpqpqp
Healer Fondorn came early Saturday morning. Harry was ready for him, waiting in the Slytherin Common Room, drying damp palms on the rough material of his pants.
The portal opened, but only Professor Snape stepped through. By the thunderous set of his brows, Harry had a good reason to bet that the Potions Master had met the Healer somewhere in the halls.
"Mr. Potter," Snape folded his hands into his sleeves. "There is one Healer Fondorn here to see you."
"Yes, sir."
"Was this your decision?"
"No, sir."
Severus glanced towards the half-open door and stepped away. "You need not do this…Harry."
He tried to smile at the man. "If I don't it'll just get worse."
"There is no reason to put you through this man's idea of treatment yet again."
He shrugged. "Sirius worries." He got up off the couch. "Is he coming in?"
Snape's mouth was drawn to a thin, unhappy line. "No, Healer Fondorn refuses to examine you here. I will be escorting you both to the Infirmary where Poppy shall act as your witness."
"My what?"
"Your witness, Mr. Potter." The dark eyes fixed him with a sharp stare. "Did you think we would leave you alone in this man's company?"
"I, uh…" Harry felt the flush covering his face.
"Come along," Snape turned on his heel before Harry could speak. He followed the man out of the portal and up the long, dark stairs to one of the well lit halls. Healer Fondorn had a matching scowl for Professor Snape when they reached him.
"Potter," Harry wanted to shrink from the look in the Healer's eyes. "Come along." Fondorn began to march off in one direction.
"The Infirmary is this way." Snape's smile was vicious. Fondorn whipped around to scowl at them.
"This way, Potter. Come along."
"I, uh," Harry had an irrational urge to hide behind his Head of House. "The Infirmary really is this way," he jerked a thumb over his shoulder.
"Are you arguing with me?"
"I, uh…"
"Healer Fondorn," Severus cut in. "As Mr. Potter's Head of House, I am his acting guardian while he is on Hogwarts soil. If Mr. Black insists on this…interview, then I will insist that it take place in a safe, sanitary area which will be supervised by the school's own nurse."
"You're setting a watchdog on me, Snape?"
"Why, the man does have a brain."
"Sir," Harry turned to his teacher.
"Potter, you come here right now."
He glanced at the Healer. "But…"
The man drew himself up to his full height. "Your godfather shall hear of this."
Harry's shoulders slumped. "I thought…You were here to give me a check up."
"Your insubordination has grown worse I see."
"But…"
"Are you quite finished?" Severus took a step forward, between the Healer's furious gaze and Harry.
"Not in the least," Fondorn snarled.
"Then again I must insist: the Infirmary or nothing."
The Healer's face was flushed an ugly mix of red and purple. "Fine," the man spat out and swept by them, looking like a child about to have a fit. Harry was reminded again of Ron for one awful moment – he always used to storm off, just like that – before he pushed it down and away, locking the thought in the back of his mind.
"Stay close, Mr. Potter," Snape laid a hand on Harry's shoulder, causing him to jump. The hand tensed, but gave him a brief squeeze and then was gone.
"Thank you, sir," Harry swallowed hard against the strange rush of fear that had decided to lodge itself in his throat.
"Think nothing of it, Mr. Potter."
qpqpqpqp
Poppy watched them with sharp eyes. She refused to leave Harry's bedside for any of Fondorn's requests, another thing that infuriated the man to no end. Harry was grateful she stayed – he remembered all too well the man's sharp fingers and hard grip.
"You must step away for this," the Healer had finished the last of his physical examination. Snape had left them at the door, turned them over to Poppy's care. Harry had a moment to wish the man had stayed.
"Mr. Potter is also my patient," the Head Nurse's expression was more of a snarl than a pleasant smile. It was a shock to see it on the woman's face.
"I am his primary physician. You must leave now." Fondorn poked one imperious arm off down the hall. "Go away."
"No."
"Yes."
"No."
"Yes."
"No."
"Yes, woman, you will or so help me I will lodge a complain with the board of governors –,"
"It's all right if she's watching from the end of the hall, right?" Harry broke in. Both adults turned to stare at him. "That way she can still supervise but she won't be able to hear us." He turned large eyes to Poppy. "That works, right?"
Her expression gentled. "Of course, Mr. Potter. If you're sure."
"I am." She gave the Healer one last steely glance before marching down the hall. At the entrance to her office she stopped and turned, hands folded at her waist, eyes trained on them.
Harry could see the vein the man's temple throbbing. "You've painted quite the picture, I see." Fondorn kept his voice low as he turned to Harry.
"I've only told them the truth."
"Ah, yes, but we all know what your version of the truth is," Fondorn folded his arms over his chest. "I will tell you, I am concerned, Potter. You made such progress this summer. Now all our hard work is almost gone."
Fear spilled through Harry. "How so?" His smile wasn't much of anything, he feared. "I'm much healthier now." No thanks to you, he added in his head. The potions Professor Snape created were the ones that had worked the most miracles for him.
"I am more worried about your mind, Potter." The Healer let out a sigh that made Harry want to cringe. He knew that sigh. "You're back to believing all your nonsense, aren't you?"
"Nonsense, sir? I haven't had time for it."
"And you are speaking back to your betters. Really, what does Slytherin teach its students these days?"
Harry swallowed the first three answers that sat at the tip of his tongue. "Forgive my rudeness, Healer Fondorn. But it's true – we've been studying nonstop for a month. We just took our OWLs."
The man never blinked. "I'm most disappointed in you, Potter. Your father –,"
"Godfather," Harry set his jaw.
The man's eyes shifted. "Ah yes, of course Mr. Potter. Your godfather. He and I shall be having a long talk about this, mark my words."
"I always do," Harry forced his jaw to shut.
The man's hand twitched. Harry tensed. Then Poppy's brisk footsteps broke the staring contest between them.
"Time is up, Healer Fondorn," she all but elbowed her way between the man and Harry's seated position on the bed. "Thank you for coming all this way. Professor Snape will see you out."
Harry twisted on the bed. Snape was standing in the door to the Infirmary, black hair and robes fading into the dim light of the hall.
"I can see myself out," Fondorn spared one last look at Harry. "We are not done yet, Mr. Potter. I am most concerned."
"As am I," he didn't feel bad about the tone of his words, not when it looked like Madam Pomfrey wanted to box the man's ears right then and there.
Fondorn stalked off without another word. Poppy stood at attention at Harry's side until he was gone.
"The things you get into, Mr. Potter," she said with a sigh. The tension seemed to leak from her frame.
"I…I don't mean to."
She blinked down at him. Then a series of expressions flew across her face, too fast for Harry to track. "Oh, my boy," she reached down and gave him an enveloping hug. Harry had no idea what to do, so he sat stiff in her embrace. She pulled back after a moment, patting at her face. "My, my," she shook her head. "We won't leave you alone with him, Mr. Potter. If you meet with him in the halls, come find us immediately. Fondorn has no authority in the castle. Hogwarts is mine," she tilted her chin up with pride. "Come along, I'll see you back down to the dungeons."
He followed her out of the Infirmary, still a little lost, but hopeful. Pomfrey kept up the light chatter all the way back to the dorms.
qpqpqpqp
It felt like she was going in circles. Perhaps she was. But the Morrigan pushed her spirit further, feathers slicing through the Dark, senses trained on that. Damnable. Scent.
It had grown stronger. She had one, wild, hopeful moment when she thought she'd found it, found the lead that would take her to the source. But then the Dark had snatched up the scent, taken it apart with its strange, almost sentient tendrils and flung it wide. The scent was everywhere now. Winds both physical and not pushed it deeper into the dark recesses where her kind had long ago given up exploring. Nothing ever came out from the Wild Dark – the dark that sat beyond the mists and the gloom, the Dark that was as cold as the places between the stars.
She flew as close as she dared, darting in and swooping back. The scent was there. It was stronger. She had to remember. She had to.
Her furious scream echoed off into the Dark. She flew on, ignoring the feel of eyes on her back.
She already knew what was watching.
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"Harry, are you sure about this?" Draco studied the bowed head in front of him.
"Yes."
"You've been off all morning."
"I'm fine."
"Harry…"
"I said I'm fine, damn it!" Harry's head jerked up, his glare taking Draco's breath away. "I am so bloody tired of people doubting every damn word I say. I'm fine. Let's go, Malfoy, or I'll go without you."
"Fine."
"Fine."
It wasn't how Draco wanted their first crossing to be like. Instead of elation at the flickering portal, instead of a joyful shout and swelling pride, Draco felt acid burn the back of his throat as Harry marched forward through the portal without a word of praise.
Prat, Draco stalked after him, wand gripped tight in his hand. All his efforts to make the portal more like an actual door had failed – they ended up with a vague archway for almost giants. Still, it worked and he could summon it with a word and a drop of blood on the charm he wore around his wrist. It was the single bauble on the chain, but Draco was determined to make more.
The entrance to Pythia's cave opened in front of them. Harry swept on without a word, the angry set of his shouldering churning worry and ire in Draco's gut. We don't doubt you, he wanted to shake a fist at the retreating back. But you're too bloody stubborn sometimes, Potter. Can't you learn to lean on someone? Can't you trust me?
He hurried after the other boy, stepping into the cave, hot on Harry's heels. He blinked at the spots that wanted to form in front of his eyes.
"Ah, there you are." The sound of the oracle's voice unwound some knot of tension in Draco's middle. Maybe she would be able to talk some sense into Harry.
Harry went to her side immediately. Draco set his jaw, but stayed near the entrance, folding his arms over his chest and watching them through narrowed eyes.
Pythia blinked at him. "Hm," she glanced down at Harry and then back up at Draco. "I see." A small shake of her head caused the tendrils of hair near her face to sway. "Come along, Harry. There are some things I need to show you." She put one arm over his shoulders and drew him beyond, into the curtained alcove at the back of the cave.
"Bit of a spat, then?" The voice at Draco's back made him jump. He spun, wand out and a curse on the tip of his tongue.
Homer never moved. The swarthy skinned man had one shoulder propped up against the wall, arms crossed and what looked like a pipe clamped between his teeth. Draco could almost smell the sea brine on his skin. Draco lowered his wand and rubbed at his nose. No, he took it back. He could smell the sea brine on the man's clothes.
"We're fine," he answered the man's question.
The pipe was transferred from one corner of the man's mouth to the other. "Oh, I doubt that. C'mon then, boy. You and I will have a nice talk."
"Talk?" Draco planted his heels into the ground. "I'm not going anywhere without Harry."
"Oh, boyo, don't you get it?" Homer took the pipe out of his mouth and stabbed it towards the hanging cloth. "They're already gone."
"What?" Draco sprinted for the alcove. He heard cloth tear as he ripped the curtain back. The Dark rippled where the firelight met its surface. There was no sign of Harry or Pythia.
"No," he felt his throat close. The anger roared forth. "No, damn it, no." He felt magic surge through his bones. "You're not supposed to do this, Harry. You weren't supposed to leave without me." He drew his arm back, wanting nothing more than to blast the Dark apart and go hunting for the other boy.
A hand caught his wrist. "Enough," Homer hauled him around. The force caused Draco to stumble, fall to his knees in front of the Dark.
"No," his eyes felt odd. His bones seemed to shiver under his skin. It was the strangest sensation, but it didn't hurt. Just pressure, a feeling of being trapped by delicate skin, but no pain.
Hands settled onto his shoulders, gentle this time. "Oh, the mess of things these days," Homer drew Draco away from the glittering Dark. The curtain was hauled between them and the pressure on Draco's bones seemed to fade.
"What?" He shook the older man's hands away. "That was – what happened?"
"Come, let's have us a drink," Homer caught Draco's elbow as they stood. A wooden cup was thrust into Draco's hands as Homer sat them in front of the fire. A tentative taste proved it to be mulled wine. Draco wrinkled his nose, but wrapped his hands around the mug. The warmth felt good against his now-aching bones.
"Now, let's start over, eh?" Homer drained his cup and refilled it. "What's sent the bugs up your shift, then?"
"I'm fine."
"Just like your Seer is fine, I'm sure." Homer rolled his eyes and leaned back against the sloping chaise. "Try it again."
Draco set his jaw and looked away. "There's nothing to say." A thought occurred to him, causing him to glance back at the man. "How, by the way, am I understanding you? I don't think the Greeks knew English and Pythia said you'd been trapped here for close to two thousand years."
Homer's dark eyes stayed on Draco for a long moment. "We'll start it this way, then," he said to Draco's confusion. "You're right, I don't know the language you speak. Nor, I would bet, would you understand the language I speak."
"What?"
"Consider, young man, where we are," Homer's arm encompassed the entire rough-hewn room. This place used to exist on the mortal realm. But long ago, a terrible rumbled felled the whole temple, killed almost all the acolytes and trapped us under here." Homer took a long draught from his cup. "It took weeks for them to clear the rubble away. When they came to the stairs where the chamber used to exist, there was nothing." His hand carved a flat line into the air. "Solid bedrock under the temple. A new fissure had opened up to one side. When they rebuilt, they moved their new Priestess there."
Draco frowned, staring into the shiny surface of the mulled wine. "Are you saying you're dead?"
"No," Homer's rich chuckle moved his flat belly. "But for millennia we have lived in this pocket of the Dark, cut off from all Paths that creatures of the Otherworld can use. We are alone, here in this place. To travel outside, to go anywhere, we have to use the Dark and what gifts the gods gave us."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, boy, reality is what you make it, here. Especially here," Homer refilled his cup. "I speak ancient Greek and a handful of Persian. You understand me because I will you to understand me. Thus the words are changed to ones you understand. Just as when you speak to me, you will me, subconsciously or not, to hear and understand what you say."
"…Oh." Draco stared at the man. "That is…edifying."
"Which also means I can tell when you're lying through your teeth," Homer pointed a stubby finger at Draco. "Now, what's wrong?"
"I…don't know."
"Liar."
"I don't," Draco's head came up. "Harry had a meeting with his bloody Healer his bastard of a godfather made him see and Harry wouldn't let me come along and we all know the man did horrid things to Harry and how am I supposed to protect him when he won't let me get close!" Draco threw his cup at the fire. The wine made the flames hiss and smoke. "I'm supposed to be his strength, his pillar – some bloody help I've been, he's been trapped in who knows what kind of situation, and what did I do? I made a door to the Otherworld. Good bloody job, there, Draco, brilliant, just let the love of your life be hurt by his relatives, but – jolly good job at the inventing!" Draco found himself on his feet, panting for breath.
Homer stared up at him. "Are you through?"
The air seemed to leave him. "Yes," he sagged back down onto the chair. "Yes, it would seem that I am through."
"Being a Seer means dealing with the Dark," Homer leaned forward, elbows on his knees. His cup dangled from his hands, swinging back and forth between his legs. "But being the pillar, the one who the Seer clings to, means knowing the Dark, maybe even better than they do."
"What?"
"You have to know a thing, to battle it." Homer sent a sharp glance at Draco. "You've got things swimming through your bones that you don't know about, if that stunt near the abyss proved anything. You have to strip away all the lies, all the things you pretend, you must be honest, to the point of pain, to know yourself. Then you must know them," a smile curled the man's mouth. "You must know their temper, their vices. The way they eat, sleep, shit, speak, breathe, vomit, scream and sob. A perfect image will shatter in the Dark. But a true image, the knowledge of a person, even with all their vices, will lead you to them with even feet and no fear of losing them to the abyss."
"But…I do know Harry."
"You know bits and pieces of the boy," Homer snorted. "No one meets their pillar and knows them inside out in a matter of weeks."
"We've known each other for years!"
"But have you known the boy inside and out, at all?"
Draco opened his mouth to retort, and then closed it. "No," he said after a moment. "If anyone did, it would have been the Weasel." The truth burned the back of his throat.
"And that angers you."
"Yes."
"Because you want to know him."
"Yes."
"Have you asked him?"
Draco let out a long breath. "No."
Homer set his cup aside with a shrug. "There you go, then."
"What, that's it?" Draco knew his laugh was bitter. It hurt even his ears to hear it. "Harry's remarkably good at not answering. He doesn't trust anyone," he stared down at his hands. "I doubt he trusts me anymore."
"Why?"
"I failed him."
"How?"
"I let them take him. I never rescued him. I couldn't make Sirius stop being an ass."
"Ah, so you weren't able to be a hero, then, is that what it's about?"
"Gryffindors are heroes," Draco snarled. "I was just trying to protect him!"
"By keeping him in a cage?"
Draco reeled back, feeling as though he'd been slapped. "Never."
"I will tell you this once, boy. So mark my words," Homer leveled a finger at Draco's chest. "Seers are wild, head strong, stubborn asses. They refuse to be caged and die if they are. The Dark will rip them apart if they are away from it too long. The only way to protect your Harry, boy, is by letting him go. What you have to do," he continued over Draco's wordless protest. "What you have to do is learn how to fly along with him."
"Fly along with him," Draco repeated.
"Yes." Homer leaned back with a sigh. "Half the time your boy's head will be so full of things you can't imagine it'll be a wonder he'll be able to remember his own name. That's the price of being a Seer. It's a thankless job, being what we are. Can you handle that?"
"Handle what?"
"Being ignored for the voices that are in their heads. For the conversations they hold with things you can't see. For having to hunt for them on the really bad days and hold them while they scream."
Draco swallowed against a dry throat. "I promised Harry I would be there. I meant it. I never go back on my word."
"Even if he forgets your name? Even if the Dark takes his mind and makes him attack you?"
"I won't leave him. Ever." Draco's hands curled into fists. "There's nothing he could do that would make me turn from him."
"So your little temper tantrum earlier was…?"
Draco set his jaw, but answered. "Just that. A temper tantrum. I'll live." He shut his mind the wailing voice in the back of his head, the one that wanted – demanded – the attention. He had given his word. He no longer had time to be childish about ridiculous things.
"I'm sorry," arms wound around Draco's neck, startling him. Harry's voice was right at his ear. "I'm sorry."
He turned, catching a handful of Harry's jumper. "When – when did you…"
Harry slid onto Draco's lap, straddling his legs, arms still tight around Draco's neck. The smaller boy buried his head where shoulder met the neck and pressed close. Draco curled his arms around Harry's back.
Draco never noticed Homer's retreat. Cloth rustled behind them and then they were alone.
Harry's breath hitched and he sighed. "I was a prat earlier. I'm sorry."
"I…no, it's fine."
"It's not fine," Harry drew back, green eyes bright with anger. "You – tell me when I'm being a prat, Draco."
"But…" Draco shook his head. "You were upset."
"I know."
"I'd rather not upset you more than you were."
"I'll deal with it."
"Harry…"
"Do you know how terrified I am that one day you'll wake up and finally understand what a colossal waste of time I am?" Harry's smile did not reach his eyes. "That one day you'll be utterly, utterly sick of everything I bring with me and toss me out on my ear where I belong?"
Draco put a hand across Harry's mouth. "You're being a prat," he growled. "I'll never be tired of you."
Green eyes widened as Harry shook his head.
"You don't believe me?"
A guilty look shifted green eyes away from him.
"Can't you trust me?"
Harry tugged at the hand that covered his mouth. Draco let it drop. "I trust you," Harry licked his lips. "I do!" He frowned at the expression on Draco's face. "It's just…not with everything."
"Why not?"
"Because."
"Because why?"
Harry let out a sharp sigh. "Because everyone has let me down so far. I trust people to a point, but it's like I wait for them to fail, as if I know, somehow, they will."
"I won't fail you."
"Yeah, well, I thought Ron and Hermione would never fail me either, and they ripped my heart to shreds."
Draco kept a firm grip on his temper. "I'm not them," he settled his hands on Harry's hips. "I keep my word."
There was no quick retort that Draco had been expecting. Green eyes searched his face instead. "I know you do," Harry said after a moment. "I know that."
"Well, then."
That caused a quirk of a smile to appear. "Yeah."
"Will you try?"
Harry drew in a long breath. "Will you be patient?"
"Yes."
"Then…okay."
"Okay, what?"
"I'll try."
Draco felt a weight slide from his shoulders. "Okay then."
Harry rolled his eyes. "We're a right bloody pair, aren't we?"
"As bad as Pansy on a chocolate low."
"I'm telling her you said that."
"Then you'd have to explain why and then she'd squeal and call Millicent and there would be nail polish."
Harry wrinkled his nose. "Don't, eh? I don't think my ego would be able to stand that."
Draco tugged Harry close. The former Gryffindor burrowed back into his arms. The fire crackled in the sudden quiet.
"It was brilliant, you know."
"What?"
"Your portal."
"Shh, Harry."
"It was. I could never make something like that. You should be really proud. It's amazing."
Draco settled his chin on Harry's shoulder and told the voice in the back of his head to shut up. "I'm glad you approve."
"I'm sorry about earlier."
"I'm sorry I was a prat back at you."
"I hate Healer Fondorn."
Draco took the space of a long sigh to reply. "We'll figure out a way to deal with him."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
It was some time before either Pythia or Homer bothered the pair near the fire.
End Chapter Twenty-Eight