Chapter 3: The Burrow

Harry knew Draco was secretly dreading their destination this morning, so by extention, that whole week was blacklisted. The trio had agreed to stay at The Burrow, and go with them on their Diagon Alley trip, and Draco had seemed fine with the idea when it was a whole month away. Now, however, Draco was panicking. He'd been working with Remus to overcome some of the ingrained behaviour he'd had to learn as Lucius Malfoy's son, but he still had a thing about cleanliness. He showered twice a day, wouldn't sit down on a chair if he could see dust or dirt on it, and crinkled up his nose in distaste whenever he saw the state of Neville's clothing after a long day in his greenhouse.

The only 'mess' he seemed not to mind was the inevitable one whenever Harry went into one of his artistic moods. Sure, he'd still carefully step over any discarded pencils or sketchbooks which normally littered the floor of Harry's room, but that was… different. Harry, who loved studying people, sometimes noticed an expression of exasperated fondness cross the blond's face.

Draco was concerned (actually, he was bloody terrified) that when he arrived at The Burrow, he would offend the Weasleys in some way while he attempted to push down his first instincts as a proper little pureblood heir. Harry had tried to tell him multiple times that they all understood, that they wouldn't mind, and that by the end of the week, the place would have grown on him. Every time he tried to convince Draco of this fact, he'd raise one perfect eyebrow and look at Harry until he gave up.

Therefore, as Draco was panicking for the fifth time that morning on whether he brought enough clothes, Harry had enough. He strode over to Draco's suitcase (because of course he'd have one just for clothes), closed it, and quickly sat on it. Draco's tantrum was cut short. "Erm… Harry? Wh-why are you on my suitcase?"

"You've got enough clothes for a small village, Dray. You're fine. You've got a whole outfit for each and every bad-weather scenario I could possibly think of, and still managed to fit your broom in there," Harry stated, arms crossed.

Draco scoffed. "There are plenty more clothes I could need! What if there's a mudslide? Or a hurricane?"

"There aren't any clay-based mountains in the area, so the mudslide's out," Harry said, rolling his eyes. "As for the hurricane, we're not in the tropics, and nowhere near the ocean, so no tsunamis either. You're going to be fine! Nev and I'll be with you the entire time, so we can always nudge you if you're about to do something you shouldn't; and Mrs Weasley would let you sleep in Charlie's old room if you asked, so you don't have to room with Ron the slob, Neville the mud enthusiast, or Harry the art freak."

Draco's eyes snapped to Harry's at the last bit, and his face became pink in anger. "Don't call yourself that! Or the other two! I don't think of either of you in such vulgar terms, and I never will. Just because I have a thing about being clean, doesn't mean I wouldn't gladly room with you guys. Sure, I may find it uncomfortable at first, but I'll get over it. I'll probably be tossing garden gnomes by the end of the week."

Harry grinned triumphantly. "That's what I've been trying to tell you for the past month! I only said those things because I realised you needed a kick in the arse towards the right direction. That little speech you just did… very Hufflepuff."

Having calmed down somewhat, Draco gasped in mock indignation. "How dare you! I, a Hufflepuff? Of all the inconceivable notions running through that plebeian head of yours!" He went out the doors, muttering under his breath, still playing up the well-bred heir. "A Hufflepuff… honestly."

*Draco's POV*

Okay, so The Burrow was… quaint. It looked like several hovels had been levitated on top of one another, and kept that way with any number of enchantments. Come to think of it, that was actually rather impressive, and the house was certainly a conversation piece.

Entering through the door, his vision was assaulted with a multitude of colours and patterns, not really fitting together, but coexisting all the same, giving the place a very homey feel. He smiled slightly at seeing a small clock hanging on the kitchen wall which said things like 'Time to feed the chickens', and 'you're late', which seemed to change its 'time' based on who was looking directly at it.

"Now, dears," said Mrs Weasley, and Draco jumped. "You have about an hour until Neville gets here, and then another hour until lunch. Draco, I know you may be used to doing magic around the house, but sadly our wards don't have anywhere near the capabilities you're used to. So, I'm afraid to say, dear, you can't use your wand for the week."

To say the least, Draco felt horrified, but not in the way he thought he'd be. He simply couldn't get past the idea that in a house filled to the brim with so much magic, his friends hadn't been able to use it. He'd never told anyone, but he was very sensitive to magic. He could feel the aura of power around a person or object; the more there was, the more it called to him, and with the way The Burrow was structured, he could feel the very air around him pulling at his magical core. Therefore, he knew he'd be spending as much time as possible outside.

In fact, this sensitivity was the reason why he'd reached out to Harry in the first place. His aura had been nearly overwhelming, and whatever Slytherin he'd had in him had told him to hang on to the tousle-haired boy, because he wanted that power on his side. The longer he stayed around Harry, the less he found himself judging people's power levels, instead getting to know them first before making any judgements on their characters.

He was nudged out of his thoughts by Harry, and realised he'd just been staring at the dining table for who knows how long, while Harry patiently stood by him. "You all right?" he asked softly.

Draco smiled, and decided he might as well tell his best friend. "Of course, just getting the feel of the place. It's quite different to what I'm used to, all this extra magic floating around. Shall we go back outside?"

Harry followed him with a bemused expression, which slowly turned to wonder as Draco explained his gift. Finally, he commented, "It sounds sort of like the raw basis for a magical diagnostic spell. Can you tell the type of magic in the aura, or just the amount?"

"I can tell the type as well, but it takes a bit more concentration. Why?" he asked.

"Well, I was thinking we should find some way to figure out what type of magic is on that book your father has, right? Well, house-elves can apparate into practically any wards because most wizards don't think of adding wards to stop this, so unless your father has specifically put up wards to prevent you from entering the property via house-elf, Dobby could apparate you in, you scan it, copy what you feel onto some parchment, then come back."

Draco's mind was spinning with the possibilities, but one thing stood out. "When you say come back, do you mean with the book?"

Harry shook his head. "It could be dangerous. We also don't know if you can detect dormant magic, so what if you don't sense it, but there's a curse on it that if someone other than your father touching it, causes a trap to appear? You could be seriously hurt!"

"Aww, concerned about me?" Draco teased.

"Always," Harry said, and Draco felt as though his heart had stopped. "You and Neville are my best friends, I can't imagine something happening to either of you, especially when I'm not there with you."

Draco's heart started again, and he gave out a quiet sigh. "I know what you mean. I promise I'll try not to do anything too stupid… unless you're next to me," Draco added slyly.

Harry snorted. "Agreed."

It was Friday, and today was the day Harry, Draco, and Neville had set aside for Draco's trip into Malfoy Manor. However, They didn't want anyone to think they were up to something, so despite waking up early due to nerves, they didn't go downstairs. In fact, they didn't even talk, as sound carried well in The Burrow, so they double checked their plan by writing down what they wanted to say on parchment and showing it to each other. Eventually, after going over it, they each pulled out a book and read for the hour remaining until Mrs Weasley could be heard puttering around in the kitchen.

They ambled downstairs, seemingly carefree, had breakfast, then cheerfully told her they'd decided to visit Luna for a bit, and that they'd be back by lunch.

Once outside, they headed in the direction of Luna's house, but once they'd reached a small copse of trees just outside the meagre wards, they sat down. Draco called Dobby, who, having been informed of the plan prior to today, simply held out his hand, which Draco took grimly, and they Disapparated with a soft pop.

They appeared in his father's study, and Draco was again grateful that his father always kept a tight schedule that meant that at this time of day, he was off harrassing the Minister for Magic.

Dobby pointed him toward the drawer which held the book, and opened it magically. All of a sudden, Draco was thrown back by the power and absolute hatred coming from the book. Winded, he struggled upright again and waded back through the waves of magic towards the source of power. All at once, he could see it was a diary, the year on the cover stating that the thing was fifty years old. He also knew that he didn't need to concentrate very hard to find what type of magic it had; the hatred and the slimy feeling in the air making him shudder. So, he got the roll of parchment out of his pocket and pushed his magic onto it, and before his eyes, the runes describing the magical signature, the type of magic, and the affinity appeared. He put the parchment back into his pocket, then nodded to Dobby, who closed the drawer and popped the both of them out of there as quickly as possible.

Draco fell to the ground as soon as they arrived back where Harry and Neville were, and retched. He heard his friends squawk in alarm and rush to him, and felt their hands on his back. After he'd finished, a vial was held under his nose. He looked up blearily and saw Luna. "Stomach Soother. I thought it might be useful."

Not quite ready to question Luna's presence yet, he just accepted the vial and gulped the vulgar liquid down. "I have a variant of Magesight," Luna explained, "called Conspicuum Magesight. It allows me to look beyond the visible world, beyond appearances, and see the absolute truth. I Saw that you would need my help, and what you were doing as soon as you'd made the decision to do it. You see, the last time we met, you unknowingly became my subjects."

"What do you mean by subjects, Luna?" asked Neville slowly.

"A focus on the physical world. It's through you three and your decisions that I see the truth the easiest. If a friend of yours is in danger, or is pretending to be a friend for some reason, I'll see it, but not beyond three degrees of relationships. So, I can see your friend's friend, and their friend, but not any further. My destiny is tied to you three." She leaned in to whisper, "I'm looking forward to all the mischief!"