Chapter 3
.o.o.o.o.o.
"Darling, must you bring all of that into the tea room?" Narcissa chided after she had seated herself upon the sofa across from him. It was morning, and Draco was doing all that he could to distract himself from the previous night's fiasco. He made an incoherent noise without looking up from his documents.
"Greyback left blood all over the floor of father's study. It's rather distracting."
His mother voiced no more objections. She sipped her tea and eyed the documents herself.
"Is Wilson and Wright no longer handling our finances?" she asked quietly.
"Seems they will no longer have us as a client," Draco replied stiffly. He picked up another letter, "This is from Greengrass Apothecaries. They are pulling out of our arrangement. Borgin and Burkes has done the same. So has Slug and Jiggers . Merlin, no one will even sell our wine anymore." He set down his quill and rubbed at his tired eyes. "Our Greengots accounts are all overdrawn. We have outstanding dues to nearly all of father's frequent haunts. The ministry has their eyes on the manor, or rather the land, I expect."
Narcissa's lips pursed as the frustration finally hit her.
"They cannot. Wizarding law states-"
"Come now, mother," Draco cut her off, already having worked himself into a fury earlier and still bristling with anger. "Do you really think any of those laws will hold much longer? The entire system is being dismantled. They managed to get their greedy hands on the Crabbe and Lestrange properties. Seems we are next in line." The Goyle residence too, Draco reminded himself. Gregory had been too far down the chain of command to receive an Azkaban sentence. But he was in St. Mungo's now, with what Draco knew to be a mild case of spell damage. He'd never left the ward. It was only a matter of time before they branded him as clinically insane and allowed the ministry access to seize all that his family had ever owned.
"There must be a way," Narcissa hissed.
"We could attempt to have the manor reclassified as a historical site, but that would force us to reveal things, both family secrets and more recent... happenings that we are better off taking to our graves," Draco said, dejected. Narcissa's face was pinched in silent outrage. She set her tea down, no longer interested.
"I will enlist Andromeda's aid in finding us a solicitor that will keep the ministry bogged down in legal proceedings for decades."
"And where would we get the money for that, mother?" he asked tiredly. He was sick of having to now worry about this extra variable. It certainly made life so much harder... as if it wasn't hard enough these days.
At that moment, the wards began to chime.
"Is someone at the door?" his mother asked incredulously. Draco, too, was curious. No one felt the need to walk up the long drive to the door of the manor these days. Charms repelled any muggle that might feel the need to do so, and everyone else tended to firecall.
They permitted Kreacher to answer the door and show the guest into the tea room. It was Potter. He was holding a bouquet of roses and looking quite somber.
"Good afternoon, Mrs. Malfoy," he began pleasantly. "So sorry to drop in on you like this, but I was wondering if I might have a private word with your son."
"Of course," Narcissa said, looking mostly intrigued now. She waved them on and Draco led Potter into the adjacent room. Potter fixed him under that green stare.
"I wanted to apologize for what I accused you of yesterday. It was wrong of me. I should never have even taunted you in the first place. In the future, I shall keep things professional between us," Potter began in a hushed voice as soon as they were alone. Draco knitted his brows. So Potter was to blame himself for yesterday after all...
"Honestly, Potter. You aren't so bad on the eyes, but I would not dare risk the Imperious curse while on probation, even if it might get me into the Savior's pants," Draco said truthfully. Potter seemed to take comfort in those words. He held out the flowers.
"They're more for your mother than you," he explained, "Am I forgiven?"
"You are assuming I can afford to hold a grudge against you," Draco replied haughtily as he reached out to take the flowers. His fingers brushed Harry's. That spark of magic hit him all over again and before he knew what he was doing, his fingers had traveled up Potter's arm to grip his bicep. The flowers tumbled to the floor and Potter's arms were suddenly around him. They stood together, lips only inches apart, breathing heavily.
This time, it was Draco who came to his senses first, tearing himself away.
"I think you'd better leave," he told Potter.
"...Alright," the other man said after staring down for a moment at his hand. He fled from the room after a small moment of hesitation. Draco looked down at his own hand accusingly and flexed his fingers. Yes, there was no doubt that there was something abnormal going on.
Residual magic, perhaps?
"Oh darling," Narcissa cooed when Draco emerged back into the other room, holding the crushed flowers, "I had no idea." Draco scowled, tossing the bouquet onto the table.
"You have the wrong idea."
"All this time, your father and I attempted to match you with the Greengrass girl. Perhaps we should have been considering a boy instead. Harry Potter would be a fine match indeed. You could do much worse. Some even say the Potters ought to have been part of the Sacred Twenty-eight, you know."
"Then you should marry him yourself," Draco spat, "The flowers were for you, by the way."
"How thoughtful!"
.o.o.o.o.
Summer refused to give way to fall, tormenting Draco with a heat he swore he felt both inside and out. For the following few weeks he saw little of Potter around the castle, and he rather wished it to stay that way.
The thing that was between them, the magic, the emotions, whatever it was it certainly wasn't normal. Draco couldn't shake the feeling that something sinister was at play.
Malfoy found himself outside Slughorn's classroom one afternoon after his work on the castle had been completed. He waited patiently until the students had all filed out and approached the elder man before he could make the escape he so desperately desired.
"Oh, Mr. Malfoy. I'm afraid I've no need of you this evening. The slugs have already been sorted into jars for the morning classes."
"Professor," Draco said, ignoring the previous comment, "Can I speak to you for a moment about something rather private?" Slughorn's reluctance was showing quite clearly on his face. Obviously, someone bearing the Malfoy name was no longer someone worth expending much wisdom on.
"Yes, yes of course, Draven. Come, follow me to my office."
"Thank you, sir."
Draco seated himself in a chair in Slughorn's rather too cozy office, glancing around briefly at all of the pictures and newspaper clippings of famous ex-students. He wondered if there would be a shrine somewhere devoted to Potter, but if there was, it must have required a place more holy.
"Professor," Draco began, deciding to get it over with at once, "I need to know if I've somehow taken a love potion. There is someone that I... well it is quite embarrassing, but I cannot control myself while around this particular person. Could it be the work of a potion?"
Slughorn thought for a moment before he started speaking in the slow voice that professor of academia uses for the younger and less deluded.
"If one is under the influence of a love potion, he does not wonder whether he is under the influence, he simply accepts it."
"Could it have been made wrong?" Draco persisted.
"The very nature of the amorous type potion makes it either work or not work. There is no such thing as being only half in love, you see. Love potions are all or nothing, I'm afraid."
Malfoy knew his disappointment must have shown on his face. He had been certain that Slughorn would have an answer for him. The old professor surprised him by putting a hand on his shoulder, though he looked as though it pained him to do so.
"You are young, my boy. It is natural that you should have certain... urges, I daresay," It seemed as though the topic made Slughorn rather uncomfortable, but he was willing to brave it for the sake of easing a former student's anxiety. "Why, when I was your age they needed a garden hose and a stinging hex to keep me off the ladies. I imagine that it is much the same for you. Perhaps you ought to explore your urges instead of repressing them."
"I...thank you, professor," Draco said through his teeth, voice dripping with murderous politeness. He stood up to leave. The old man had been no help. No help at all.
.o.o.o.o.
Potter became the third Hogwarts professor to lend him a wand. It wasn't until Halloween that Draco conversed with Potter again, and he suspected it was that awkwardness at the manor that had caused them both to avoid one another. It seemed it was not to last, however. Potter met him at the Floo in the Three Broomsticks, just as he had that first day.
"Filch has taken ill. I suspect he'll be off this week."
"Pity," Draco said with no real feeling. Potter had come by way of broomstick this time as well and Draco was rather relieved he would not have to suffer a jostling carriage ride inhaling Filch's stench.
They remained a respectable distance apart, but today their flight was leisurely, and before they reached the lake they had drifted close enough to speak.
"Malfoy, can you produce a Patronus?"
The question came out of the blue, and Draco was suddenly forced to remember the Dark Lord's horrid occupation of his home, and the frightful creatures that had followed in his wake.
"Someone had to keep the dementors off the manor grounds. They make the flowers wilt, did you know that, Potter? Mother wouldn't have it." He recalled asking Bellatrix to teach him the spell- she'd always been so willing to teach him things- but he decided that he was better off teaching himself when he'd learned that his Aunt's happiest memory was torturing the Longbottoms into insanity. He found he couldn't quite relate.
"Can you assist me with my seventh year class this evening?"
"Why on earth would you need me? I thought you were famous for your Patronus, well, that and your scar, of course," Draco scoffed. Potter looked down at his blurry reflection in the lake. His hands tightened their grip on his broom.
"I can't do it anymore," he admitted. Draco blinked.
"Come again?"
"I can't do the Patronus Charm anymore. It doesn't work. Nothing happens when I try."
"You want me to teach your class for you?" Draco asked in disbelief. He decided not to delve into the matter of Potter's Patronus. It would be rather like asking a man why he could no longer get it up.
"Of course not. I just want someone there to give a demonstration, is all."
"Very well, then, but I'll be needing my wand."
.o.o.o.o.o.
That evening Draco sat at Harry's desk in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom whilst Potter lectured at the front.
His own wand was in his hands again at last, and by Merlin, it felt so good beneath his fingers. It distracted him sufficiently so that he was numb to the stares he was receiving. Potter's classroom was quite the mess, with books shoved in every corner, strange objects and instruments sprawled haphazardly on tables, and the center of the room had been turned into a dueling stage, with a long aisle and cushions off to either side.
The first row of students was made up entirely of witches, all of whom seemed rather smitten with the Savior. It was strange to remember that these students were only a year younger than Harry and himself. They might even believe that they stood a chance at seducing the great Harry Potter.
He was taken though, wasn't he? Surely he was still with the Weasley girl. Odd that he hadn't heard much about the couple in the papers, and she had not come back to Hogwarts with the rest of her year. Draco had rather expected their romantic escapades to grace the front of the Prophet on a regular basis.
"Right, who can tell me the two most important uses for the Patronus Charm? Yes, Wendy?" The girl in the Griffindor scarf stood from her chair, blushing wildly.
"It is used to repel dark creatures, and also it can be used as a means of communication."
"Correct," Harry nodded while the girl retook her seat. "And you will all have to produce a fully corporeal Patronus by the end of the year if you are expecting a NEWT in this subject." Potter then gestured to a rattling chest behind him. "Expecto Patronum is most useful in repelling dementors, but since I cannot bring an actual dementor onto the Hogwarts grounds, this boggart will have to do." Harry gave a sheepish smile at this point. "I'm sure you and the rest of the wizarding world knows by now the embarrassing truth that dementors are what frighten me more than anything. Therefore, I will release the boggart and hold its attention. I have with me here today, Mr. Malfoy, who will demonstrate the Patronus Charm. Malfoy has studied a great deal of the dark arts-"
"Oh I reckon he did a bit more than study them," a smarmy voice came from the back.
"Five points from Ravenclaw, Shepard," Potter called back without hesitation. "I might remind you that Malfoy has been given a wand for this demonstration, and I assure you I'll have no sympathy if you now find yourself on the wrong end of it. Anyone else have anything to say?" The class was silent once more.
Channeling a bit of Severus Snape there, aren't you Potter? Draco thought to himself. He had to grudgingly admit that Potter wasn't half bad at this teaching business. Not nearly as graceless as Draco had expected.
"Ok, right," Potter turned to Draco, finally, "Malfoy, if you would." Potter faced the trunk and Malfoy took up a position just behind him, already wondering what it would be like to hex Potter while his back was turned. It would certainly be satisfying. The latches on the trunk snapped open and immediately, a cloaked, skeletal form launched itself from the depths. It did a passable impression of a dementor, Draco mused, but it failed to induce that depressive state of mind, or chill the room, or create a vacuum where positive thoughts could not be maintained.
Draco sifted for a moment through his memories. He knew he could not delay too long in choosing one, for the charm worked best when the thought was simple. Analyze too long and the rational part of your mind could step in and convince you that an unhappy memory was actually a happy one.
So, he thought of him and Potter, on their broomsticks, racing over the reflective surface of the Black Lake.
"Expecto Patronum," Draco said, for the benefit of the watching students. Normally he cast it non-verbally. A little, silver ferret burst from his wand and targeted the boggart. It chased the creature almost back into its chest before Draco directed the little ferret to take a playful lap around the room and disappear.
"Well done," Potter acknowledged, his attention still on the boggart, "Line up, class, and start thinking of your happiest memory."
.o.o.o.o.o.
He and Potter sat in the classroom long after the last class was dismissed and the outside light had grown dim. Potter was grading something, but his quill had not moved in some time.
"A ferret," he said, breaking the silence.
"Go on and laugh, Potter," Draco invited, even though the other man had done no such thing, "Father's was a peacock. Had the Dark Lord ordered him to cast it ever, I'm certain he would have died of shame."
Potter chuckled. Actually chuckled. For a moment, Draco couldn't figure out what was so strange about that. Then, he realized that Potter was perhaps the only other person he might make light of such dark things with. Anyone else that might see the humor in it was dead. No one else would understand. How odd.
Draco had been ashamed too, at first, of the lowly creature that supposedly represented his soul, but over those dark months in the manor he'd come to accept the little silver ferret after it had protected him time and time again without fail. He would even cast it by his bedside some nights, pretending that it had the power to ward away the Dark Lord himself.
"They say that only the pure of heart can cast the Patronus Charm. I used to think I knew what that meant..." Potter said as he spared a look at his holly wand sitting on the edge of his desk, "...but now I'm not so certain."
"Must you be so disgustingly morose, all the time Potter? Perhaps what you need is a bit of cheering up. It's All Hallow's Eve, after all," Draco said, standing and stretching. He did not miss the other man's eyes following him. "You ought to go to Celia Macmillan's annual masquerade tonight. I'm sure Hogwarts can spare you for an evening."
"How did you know I was invited to that?"
"Anyone who's anyone gets invited to that damned masquerade," Draco scowled.
"You weren't invited," Potter guessed bluntly. Then, he blushed. "Were you expecting to come along as my... my date?"
"Call it my reward for getting you out of this recluse of a castle," Draco replied, surprised that Potter had put it all together so quickly. "You only need to get me through the door, after that we would, naturally, go our separate ways," he continued, walking across the room until he stood behind the other man's chair. He leaned in so that he was speaking over Potter's shoulder. "It should be your kind of party, I think. You'll be in a mask, first off, and the Macmillans put a special charm on their mansion for the night, one that makes it impossible to speak anyone's real name. Should someone recognize you, they won't be able to tell anyone else... at least until the next morning." Draco leaned in closer now. "Just think, a night of anonymous, drunken revelry."
"I'll go," Potter said. His tongue darted out to wet his lips and beneath the desk he crossed his legs.
"Excellent. Wear those robes you wore to the opera. I won't have you embarrassing me in anything less," Draco drawled as he made for the door.
"Malfoy," Potter called, causing him to stop in his tracks. "My wand," he continued. Draco glanced around to see him sitting there smugly with his palm outstretched. Draco hissed a profanity beneath his breath and stalked back over.
"It's not yours." he growled.
"It is, until I tell it that it's not. I think I'll wait until you can legally carry a wand, but only if you're good."
Draco pulled the wand out of his robes and cast a nonverbal stunner. Potter fell from his chair and onto the floor.
"One for the road, then." Draco said before slapping the wand back onto the desk.
.o.o.o.o.o.