Disclaimer: Characters and settings from the Potterverse are property of JKRowling and Warner People.

ooOOoo

Chapter 45: Two for the Price of One

Snuffles pricked up his ears. Alerted by the small movement of the dog's head beneath his hand before he heard the approaching voices, Harry looked around. A huge figure accompanied by the smaller bushy-haired shape that could only be Hermione loomed out of the darkness. A lantern (comparatively tiny in one big hand) weaved yellow light. "Hagrid," he recognised, not completely pleased to see his friend.

"Harry! What'cher doing out at this time, then? It's getting on to the middle o' the night," Hagrid added reproachfully. Fang touched noses with the big black dog sitting at Harry's feet and went to lie down by Hagrid, panting slightly even in the cool night air, small curls of steam rolling off his tongue.

Harry's arm tightened a fraction around Luna's waist. She was still standing against him and he could feel her bristle at the sight of the half-giant. Hagrid was involved in the disappearance of her beloved Simon. A brief, sneaky and entirely unwelcome thought asked Harry, Would she be this upset if you had disappeared? Harry ignored it. Some things in the world were not about him. He curved his fingers around her hip, pressing gently for a brief moment, silently urging her to wait before exploding. Luna surprised him constantly. Now was not the time for him to be surprised at her going nova.

"I am hoping you can tell us," Harry replied evenly.

"Eh? Oh… Tha'." Hagrid shuffled his massive boots. He looked down at Padfoot, who gazed back up with a measuring look in his pale eyes. The dog quirked one ear.

"What 'that', Hagrid? Is this something to do with the shoes you and Draco made for Simon?"

"Er… mebbe a tad… where's that dratted boy got to now, then?" His brow beetled as he peered at the unwelcome sight of the open gates.

"If you mean Draco, you probably know more than we do. Like, for example, how he managed to ride a horse into the barrier."

Hagrid gaped at him then squinted off into the misty darkness of the barrier. "He never," Hagrid said flatly.

"That's where the hoofprints lead. S- Snuffles followed the trail to the gates. He can't get near the barrier, of course, but it looks like someone went through. Simon at the very least. And we can't find Draco."

Glancing at the time-shifting magic of the barrier, Harry was struck not for the first time by the almost sentient manner it shimmied when his eyes glanced past it, as if it was only holding still when he looked directly at it and came alive when his attention was elsewhere. It was a little like the giant fig tree in Hufflepuff's Glasshouse of Secrets. And Harry had gone into that with significantly more confidence than he felt waiting to find out if Malfoy had finally gone and got Simon and himself killed.

"Did yer look in the dungeons?"

"I asked Trudi. She can't find him either. She's got Bulstrode helping her, but I'm not expecting any Malfoys to pop up. No welcome Malfoys, anyway…"

Harry paused, deeply disturbed at where his thoughts were leading him.

"He wouldn't have gone to his father – not with Simon," Hermione said slowly. "Would he?"

Luna made a small noise of distress. Harry hoped only he and Snuffles heard it.

Harry rocked Luna gently, barely noticing what he was doing, only wanting her not to be upset. "No," he said firmly. "I can't see him doing that – not and take Simon with him, certainly. He's very protective of Simon…"

"That's true," agreed Hermione, carefully not looking at Luna. "You'd think it odd how devoted he is to a Muggle creature, but I can't argue that he truly is."

"Because when you really want to protect someone of course you drag them through a magical barrier set up by the most powerful Dark Wizard of this century," Luna said bitterly. She sniffed. Hagrid handed her a handkerchief the size of a tea towel. There was a muffled honking as Luna blew her nose. "Thank you," she said stiffly, handing it back.

Hagrid tucked it in a pocket and ducked his head in an almost-apology. "You're sure about this?"

Harry nodded. "That he's through the barrier… or stuck in it." He didn't add that there was a very real possibility of Draco and Simon being dead – either killed by the barrier or whatever Voldemort had stationed on the other side. "But why would he try doing anything so bloody stupid in the first place? I mean, he's not noted for being Mr Brave. No – he's relying on something and my bet is it's the shoes. Would you disagree?"

"No," Hagrid sighed. He scratched his head. "Let's see… the shoes. Well, I can tell yer that they were made with some special spells. Three sets o' spells, as a matter of fact. The first for strength. Silver's a puny thing as metals go, but it's fair good at holding spells."

Harry nodded. "I figured that. What else?"

"Silence."

"Sorry?"

"The shoes – spelled for silence. Never rightly understood why he needed a horse to be quiet like, but those shoes ain't the sort to go clippetty-clop on a road, if yer get my meaning."

Harry exchanged a look with Hermione. Trust Draco to put being sneaky into a set of horse shoes. Horse sneakers. "And the third set of spells?"

"Ah. Those were the tricky ones, my oath they were. Didn't understand half of what he was gabblin' on about when he told me about them spells. Used some lovely long words, though… and what 'persickology' means is anyone's guess…"

"Psychology," Hermione said while Harry was still turning over possible translations in his head.

"Oh, ri', tha'll be it." Hagrid beamed, then sobered. "Dunno what he'll be needing psycho stuff for."

Snuffles, still sitting at Harry's feet, snorted.

Harry ignored his dog-godfather. Things could be funny when Luna wasn't on the edge of despair. "I don't care what he used so long as he gets Simon back here. But perhaps in the meantime you could tell us what you remember Draco saying…?"

ooOOoo

On the other side of midnight Draco woke in stages. First he was aware of being floated into a house. His head banged on the doorframe. Someone hissed, "Be careful, you oaf!" which he appreciated. "That sack could explode if you handle it wrong."

Ah. They were worried about the sack. Greatly offended by their priorities, Draco tried to move his arms. They seemed to be on strike, as were his legs.

"He's moving…"

"So put him down."

Thud. Draco landed on something hard. The floor, by the way the sounds were coming from so much higher now.

"Ow." Draco put his hand to his head. "That was uncalled for." He opened his eyes to see two freckled redheads glaring down at him. One still had blood smeared around his nose and chin, which was what convinced Draco he wasn't seeing double.

"Right. Because my knee feels in such good nick after you booted it."

"And my nose is usually this size."

"Uncalled for?"

"You've no idea…"

"… what is called for, Malfoy."

"Oh, shut up, Weasleys. You're giving me a headache."

"Oh, and that would…"

"…be such a…"

"… tragedy."

Draco ignored them and sat up. He had to push back his cloak to do so, earning gratifyingly pop-eyed astonishment from the twins.

"Why is it wearing Muggle clothes, George?"

"I don't know, Fred. Maybe this is the new Stealth Death Eater look."

"Maybe it's trying to infiltrate the enemy by dressing as a – what's the ghastly term they like to use? Oh yes, 'Mudblood'."

Fed up, Draco snapped, "Or maybe 'it' simply didn't want to appear like a wizard in case 'it' encountered Muggles, thus making even more trouble for 'it'."

"How clever, George. It's learned to talk in speech marks."

Draco gave up. Obviously Weasleys were bred for numbers rather than manners. Looking around, he found himself inside a dimly-lit room. It looked like the back room to a shop. On top of a large box where 'this way up' was written upside-down with the arrow pointing to the floor, was the sack. Draco exhaled in relief. Then frowned. Some woman with pink hair was poking her wand at it.

"Hey! It's not going to explode, you know."

The woman looked around at him then leaned on another box to talk softly to someone who was over by the window. She had a pretty, heart-shaped face and looked vaguely familiar. Draco had a brief but strange mental image of his mother in a pink wig. It was almost painful to think about; he'd spent so long telling himself it was a waste of time missing his parents and now it came crashing back how long it had been since he'd seen them. The last letter from his father had been painful with its gloating over Snape's death, and he hadn't heard from his mother for months. For years he'd felt stifled by how she tried to keep him safe – even arguing against Durmstrang because it was too far rather than because it was a hole of a school compared to Hogwarts. Lucius would be furious with him if – when – he found out what Draco was doing, but Draco had resigned himself to the fact that nothing he did short of handing the Dark Lord Harry Potter's head on a silver platter would please his father. He'd not stopped to consider that he might be a disappointment to his mother, too.

And he'd not stop to think about that right now. He didn't dare.

"Hoy there. Are you still with us?"

"You hit him with that Petrificus a little hard, Ambrosius mate."

"I know perfectly well what I was doing, thank you, whichever one you are," growled a familiar voice.

Draco looked around, rubbing at the stiffness in his neck. "Mr Flume?"

There was a heavy sigh. A thickset man came around from behind some boxes. Draco guessed he had been checking the window. "Thought I recognised you," said the man. He had greying brown hair and watery eyes, and the faint smell of chocolate and peppermint followed him. "Young Malfoy, isn't it?"

"Yes, sir."

Ambrosius Flume, proprietor of Honeydukes, crossed his arms and scowled. "Oh, so it's 'sir' now that your Death Eater buddies aren't around?"

Draco bridled, offended. "I'm a Death Eater, am I? And you make this assumption how? Because my father i- err… has been accused of being one? Because Weaselby and Weaselby here are petty bureaucrats with no hope for advancement like their father?" He glanced at the pretty pink-haired woman, who after the slight against Arthur Weasley was eyeing him as if he had crawled out from the gutter. Much the same expression as his mother wore when confronted with a Mudblood. "Because whatsherface here is a Muggleborn like her father?"

Her eyebrows lifted and went green with surprise. "How did you know my…?"

He'd guessed right. "I saw a picture of your mother once – my aunt, in case you didn't know. Apart from the pink hair and the horrible dress-sense, you're a lot like her. The nose is definitely not a Black nose, though."

One corner of her mouth twitched. As did her nose, refining and becoming more slender. It now looked just like his mother's, as well as Aunt Bella's. "How about now?"

"Er… yeah… That's more like it." How had she done that? Was she a metamorphamagus or something? They were terribly rare. "Good trick."

"Thanks. Can I get you anything? Glass of water? Doctor? Aurors? Veritaserum?"

"I'll go with the glass of water, thanks. And hold the Veritaserum."

"Ickle Malfoy thinks it's funny." The Weasley who was prodding at his knee with his wand spoke softly but Draco was used to spotting venom.

"Funnier when it was a ferret."

"Oh, that was definitely funny. Wonder if we can…"

"…Put that into our new range? Brilliant!"

Draco rolled his eyes. "Yes. Brilliant. I've just managed to break through the Dark Lord's barrier around Hogwarts and all you lot can think about is parlour tricks." He grunted softly as he hauled himself up to sit on one of the boxes. His shoulder was stiff and he rolled it carefully. After being yanked around by the Weasel duo it wasn't a surprise if it was mildly strained. "How about some serious questions – like what's in the sack?"

"Okay," said the pink-haired cousin. Draco noticed she was wearing an Auror badge, but not the yellow robes. Hmm. Did that mean anything significant, or were they simply in the wash? "What's in the sack?"

Draco smirked. "Open it and find out."

Flume's face settled in an old-fashioned look. "Nice try, lad. How about you open the sack."

"If you insist."

"No," Weasley with the broken nose interrupted before Draco could stand. "I'll open the bloody sack. Fred, keep your wand ready."

"On it," said Fred with the sore knee. His wand sent out a few unhappy little sparks as he stopped poking his knee and pointed it at the bag.

George – so deduced Draco – muttered a range of counter-curses (Draco made mental notes of a couple of them, determined to check them out later with Sn- with his fa- with… oh, whoever came along). There wasn't so much as a glimmer of magic released from the bag, which was fair enough. Draco had stipulated that absolutely no magic was to go into its contents, worried that something random might affect the spells he was already using to get through the barrier, or alert Death Eaters once he was through.

Finally George took a deep breath and, under the intent scrutiny of… what was her name again?… Tonks! Yes. That was it. Nympho Tonks (no, thought Draco, that can't be quite right, not even someone in the Black family would be insane or cruel enough to call a daughter Nympho)… Tonks was keeping as careful a watch over George as his twin was.

George pulled the string tie and upended the bag.

Falling down around his feet in a hushing rushing cascade of paper were scores and scores of…

"…Letters?"

ooOOoo

"Let me get this straight. You knew Draco was putting psychology spells on a horse – an animal that has a ground-level psychology of 'I am angry and about to kick this bucket into your head, Hagrid' – and didn't tell anyone?"

"Well, he's as clever as horses come, Harry," Hagrid said, looking even more awkward as Harry upbraided him.

"He's a horse, Hagrid! Not one of nature's rational creatures! Emotional, yes – there's no denying Simon has the entire range of emotions from rage to fear to cupboard love at the very least, but he's not a prime candidate for using thought-magic on. From what I've made out so far – both from books and Simon himself – horses are far too highly influenced by emotion to be used in any intelligence-enhancing spells…"

Hagrid's beard twitched into a cautious smile. "Ah, Harry, that's the nub of it, all right. Y'see Draco didn't want Simon's intelligence enhanced or diminished… he wanted Simon to continue being as clever as he was. Draco's got a high regard for Simon's intelligence and wouldn't want to muck about with it in any way. No. Those shoes aren't to enhance intelligence – and Draco was taking full account of Simon's being a creature with highly-developed emotions. They're the key to it all. He didn't want Simon to rationalise matters to death like a human would; he wanted Simon to believe."

Hermione was the first to break the silence. "Believe what, Hagrid?"

ooOOoo

"Letters?" George shook the empty upside-down sack as if expecting something else to fall out. A manticore, perhaps. Or the new, improved version of the philosopher's stone. Draco frowned at the way the twin pushed at the shoals of envelopes with the toe of his dragonhide boot.

"Ah, he has eyes. And can recognise simple shapes. Well done, that Weasley." Draco sneered as George scowled. "Yes. Letters. There might even be one for you and/or your duplicate. I'm pretty sure Ginny wrote one for your parents."

Fred, who was crouching down as best as his knee would allow, was poking at the letters with his wand. "Merlin's balls, they really do seem to be letters." He picked up one addressed to Mr and Mrs E&M Lyndham, The Shrubbery, Spreyton, Devons River Country, and turned it over. On the other side was the name Mark Lyndham, Hogwarts, with a small colour pencil sketch of an owl sitting in a lemon tree. Possibly it would mean something to E&M – Draco hadn't even known Mark could draw. He'd have to ask when he got back, it would help show he had The Common Touch knowing little things about people like that.

George peered over his shoulder. "Lyndham? Wasn't there a Lyndham in Hufflepuff? Third year? Fat kid, early bloomer spot-wise."

"Fourth year now," Draco told him. He knew this for a fact: in the week Potter had been away some of the students had begun to panic in small outbursts of vindictiveness. The divisions between houses had broken down in a new, unwelcome way, years beginning to pit themselves against other years instead of Houses. Initially Draco had wondered about how exactly this could be turned to his advantage, but after he'd broken up a fight between Lyndham, a fourth year Ravenclaw and the two second year Slytherins who'd generated their annoyance, things had become much clearer. Amazingly, things had been sorted out amicably. (Perhaps it wasn't that amazing, as it had only been a misunderstood word which had provoked the two fourth years, and the second years, hyper-defensive from being younger and Slytherin, therefore automatically perceived as being in the wrong, tended towards the philosophy of hex first, talk later. Draco had simply made the lot of them talk until a genuine apology had been given by the fourth years, accepted with a charmingly pompous return apology for not being more sensible by the second years, hands shaken all round, and, Hufflepuff that he was, Lyndham had roped the Ravenclaw into helping him tutor the two young and delighted-by-the-offer Slytherins in their defensive spells.) Draco prized the memory of his first success as a diplomat, the way the younger students had been awed by his wise sense of fair-play that left them all winners rather than only the Slytherins, and the secret rush of power from setting himself up as the hub and resolution of conflict. He would remember the tubby little Hufflepuff and his pimples with fondness for the re-opening of Draco's eyes to the overpowering rush of twirling the world around his finger.

Draco would bow to no lord, Dark or otherwise, not when it meant giving over that power.

Lucius did, but then Lucius was a fool.

But that was neither here nor there, he reminded himself. "Then you might remember Lyndham's accent? He's from the West Country."

"Oh yes. But the address could be faked." George took the envelope and moved his thumb as if to slit the seal open.

"Don't. It's not for you."

George gave Draco a measuring look, but his hand paused.

"Oi, here's one for Mum and Dad," Fred said. He'd been digging through the pile. He must have seen handwriting that looked familiar. "It's from Ginny."

"And again, that's not your letter to open." Draco smirked. "I think she's put in a separate one for you two – it might say something about what will happen if you open her private mail in future… something along the lines of not pissing off sorceresses."

"What?"

"Seventh child of a seventh child… it's pretty simple as maths goes."

"No shit? Our Gin's a sorceress?"

Tonks smacked Fred over the back of the head. "Molly'll have your tongue if she hears you using language like that."

George looked caught between delight and apprehension. Draco couldn't blame him – Ginny might have a big backlog of issues to take up with her brothers. "Any proof?"

"She used stone magic last month. Did a good job of it, too – instinctive but nicely managed."

George scowled. "Who are you meant to be again? Malfoys aren't on the side of Weasleys. Or good, for that matter."

Draco rolled his eyes. "I'm creating my own side. Someone had to, just to stop the whole criminally myopic black-and-white 'Dumbledore versus the Dark Lord' rubbish."

"I suppose it's not open to Mudbloods."

"No. But Muggle-borns can join," Draco replied evenly. "So can Squibs if they want. You've got to be a member of the Wizarding community, though. No Muggles. Haven't thought much about goblins and centaurs, but I don't see why we should be ruling them out of all the decisions that go on… Hell, even you can join if you like," he added magnanimously, "but only after you figure out the ultra-cool secret handshake."

"What ultra-cool secret handshake?" Tonks asked, mouth twitching at the corner.

"I haven't invented it yet. But it's better than tattoos or Gryff exclusivity. Now…" Pleased he'd at least managed to drain off a little of Tonks' hostility, Draco dug around in the pile of letters. He could have accio'd it, but the less magic the better. Thanks to the spells he'd been obliged to cast so far, Lucius probably had some idea already Draco mightn't be quite so safely behind the barrier as he'd assumed. "Ah. Here we go…"

The letter was whisked out of his hand by Tonks. "I'll just check that, ta."

"As you wish." Draco bit back a smile as Tonks cracked the seal and her eyes bugged.

"What the hell is this meant to be?"

"That would be Granger's shopping list."

"Thistlefew drops, Bell's version of mandrake tincture, powdered hen teeth, a bolt of uncut linen… It seems to be her writing…"

That was very interesting. How did Tonks know what Granger's writing looked like? "Probably because it is. I'm sure you're capable of doing a penmanship analysis spell to check."

George yelped in surprise, making everyone jump. He straightened, waving an envelope. "Here's one for us from Ginny."

Fred tried to snatch it. In the kerfuffle, the seal broke and sheets of paper floated onto the floor.

"Bugger." Fred lay down on his stomach to retrieve the one that had slid under a chest of drawers.

"Wow." Ignoring his brother, George scanned the first page quickly. "She's a sorceress like Malfoy says… she's been helping him" (he scowled at Draco) "as well as Harry and Ron and Hermione… she's crossed out something about Neville… Luna has a horse… the horse had some curses that needed to be lifted and Ginny tapped into something really deep, she says, and now she intends to use it on us to…" He turned the paper over and checked the second piece he was holding. "You tell me, Frederick. The threat's gone under the drawers."

"Huh." Fred rolled over onto his back and waved the parchment. "Got it! Oh… it seems she's a little annoyed about the way we charmed her undies to sing the Marseilles that Christmas."

"That was your idea."

"Was not."

"Was too."

"Was not. It was Ron's."

The twins eyed Draco. "Can you get a message back to tell her it wasn't us?"

Draco took a deep breath. "Oh. So now you want something I'm not the enemy any more?"

"Never said that."

"You're just a more useful enemy, that's all."

"Oh. Well, it's a more Slytherin attitude, so I suppose I can understand that."

The twins grimaced in tandem. "How's Ginny, really?"

"And Ron?"

"Well, Ginny seems to be doing quite well. Finding out she's a sorceress has probably helped her a bit… Ron finally got the nerve up to ask Hermione to go steady with him…"

The twins high-fived each other. "Yeah! Go, Ronnikins! What else?"

Tonks said, "Yes, what else has been going on?"

"Well, you know about the fight two full moons ago, yes?"

"Most of it. Dumbledore got a few messages through but then the cut-off was complete. Very strange. Before that the owls could usually find a few gaps."

Draco nodded. He'd have to tell Granger that – it sounded like her theory on Voldemort's attack to finish setting up the barrier was a good one.

"Did the Aurors and Moody get out okay? There are still two Aurors at Hogwarts, but we didn't find out about the others. Maybe I could talk to Moody before I go back…"

"You're planning on going back?"

Draco held her gaze. "I have to go back."

"After doing some shopping?" Hermione's list twitched ever so slightly in her hand.

Draco nodded. "I've got a lot of shopping to do. Much of it because of how the Blockade still stands. Granger's got some good ideas and we might be close to a solution, but as yet we still need to trial some things."

"Like what?"

"Like an experimental potion that requires the materials listed there to be completed."

"Where did the potion come from?"

"Professor Snape."

"He's dead. Dumbledore told Moody in the last letter."

"I know. But Snape left notes." That was true, anyway.

Tonks settled onto a box next to Flume, who had been watching everything with the apparent indifference Draco was used to seeing in the candy shop. He wasn't fooled that it meant Flume wasn't interested, though. Nobody shoplifted anything at Honeydukes.

"So," she said, "start from the battle and tell me what's been going on since then."

"It's a long story and I don't have that long to tell it in." He hoped Simon hadn't broken free and run away.

Tonks nodded to George. "Can you go over to the apothecary and get this filled out?"

"Gladrags might have the linen," Draco said. "It's got to be uncut. Can I have that note, please?"

"She keeps rolls special for ceremonial outfits," Tonks said, giving Draco the note. "Be careful, George," she added, watching Draco carefully as the boy took a quill out of his pocket and added a few things, "there may still be Dementors out there."

"I thought I felt the shadow of one when I came down the road." Draco shivered at the memory as he recapped his eveready quill and slipped it back in his pocket. What if one was near Simon?

"What's wrong?"

He must have shown his worry. "Nothing. Everything, really. Never mind. Right… The beginning… Well, the owlpost was completely stopped – I've got to get to the post office to mail those letters, by the way…"

"We'll make sure they get sent. George?"

"I'm off already. Save the juicy details for me when I get back."

The door shut quiet as dust behind him. "Continue, please," said Tonks.

"We got the last mail. I – heard a rumour about where Professor Snape had been last seen. No-one had found a body, and I thought there was a chance he might not be dead so I went out that night to try and find him… Potter followed me and although we didn't find Snape, some spiders found us…"

ooOOoo

Hermione asked, "Believe in what, Hagrid?"

"Ah. Believe in what he already knows."

"But that makes no sense."

"It does when you think about it," Hagrid said. Hermione shook her head.

"It does make sense," said Luna slowly, as if she was receiving telepathic messages from Planet Hagrid. "It makes perfect sense – especially to Simon."

Harry and Hermione exchanged glances while Snuffles whined unhappily.

Luna sighed loudly. "Simon just needs to know where he's going. If you ask a horse to do something and it believes it can do it, it'll do it. Otherwise it won't do it. Simon went into the barrier. Because he believes he can get through it."

"Or because he doesn't believe it's a danger," Harry countered. Then wished he had kept his mouth shut as the light of hope died on Luna's face.

But she perked up again with a brave smile. "Simon can do it. If he can go into the barrier he'll believe he can come out again…"

"And even if he does, what if he's injured by it?" asked Hermione, obviously frustrated by unjustified optimism. "Will he return through it? And what's on the other side?"

Luna's smile faltered. Harry didn't need to glare at Hermione – by her wince she already regretted saying anything.

"I guess if he went into the barrier he can go through it… and if he can go through it, then he can come back," Hermione said, but it was obvious she didn't completely believe her own words.

Luna nodded, however. "Yes. He will." She added cryptically, "He'll be back, because he knows, however subconsciously, that it's the right thing to do."

ooOOoo