Title: All That Glitters
Disclaimer: I don't own anything
Author's note: First of all, to all my reviewers, just a reminder: if you sign in, I can answer your reviews directly. Secondly, to answer one question from a review, this will not end up with Snape and Harry killing each other. It might not turn into a heartfelt mentor-student relationship, but they will, eventually, reach some sort of understanding. I am trying to keep the story as close to cannon as possible (given that it is AU), and we know that Harry forgives and mourns Snape in the end.
Summary: He didn't even know why he was there, really, or what it was he was looking for, what he hoped to find.
All that is gold does not glitter
Not all those who wander are lost
Chapter Eight: You Can't Go Home Again
Percy watched with narrowed eyes as Ron and Ginny spoke in low whispers. He'd heard her story a few times already, when she'd repeated it for their mother and for Bill. And although her words had been defiant and defensive, even she could not excuse Harry's decision. To completely ruin any chance he might have had to be an Auror by simply not showing up to the exams…? That was idiocy, and Percy was worried.
He turned away from his younger brother and sister and walked to the window of the room. Outside, a fine misty rain fell over everything, leaving the grass glistening and wet. He felt suffocated, but he supposed he deserved the feeling given everything he had done in the past. Why should he have the right to call this place home now, when he had not wanted it to be his home before?
He glanced again at the others in the room. Ron and Ginny were paying him no heed, and his mother had slipped into the kitchen to prepare dinner. Bill was there as well, probably discussing the newest development or playing with little Teddy Lupin, who had become a steadfast presence in their home. He rubbed his eyes and wondered to himself if anyone would notice if he just disappeared for a little while.
He walked out the front door and into the garden. The gnarled trees and overgrown grass blurred slightly as he felt the rain slick against his hair. He thought about casting a spell to protect himself from the mist, but before he could draw his wand, he heard a soft voice at his side.
"Hello, stranger."
Percy turned, a smile creeping onto his face as he recognized the voice. "Hello, Penny," he greeted.
She was standing by the gate, holding an umbrella over her head. She was Muggle-born, he reflected, so it made sense that she would favor a muggle contraption over a simple spell. He knew several witches and wizards who liked umbrellas, although he himself had always favored a magical means instead. It allowed him to keep both hands free.
"I was just coming to find you," Penelope said. She glanced at the house. She hadn't been to the Burrow in a very long time, not since long before they had graduated from Hogwarts. She wasn't entirely sure her presence would have been welcome in the home, or that Percy would have wanted her there. But she hadn't seen her boyfriend in a longer time than usual, and his absence concerned her.
"You could have sent an owl," Percy suggested. He, too, glanced at the house.
She walked over to him, holding the umbrella over his head. "I could have," she agreed. Owls, she had once told him, were impersonal, and better suited for conducting business than pleasure. He was smiling teasingly at her, and she was surprised that he remembered that conversation.
"If you come in, you could meet the rest of my family," Percy offered, although his tone left little doubt that he didn't actually want her to meet any of them. He looked behind him, and wondered if anyone had noticed his absence yet. "Ginny's home," he added, as though that would mean something to Penny.
It did. She flinched.
Percy raised an eyebrow. "Is there a problem?" he asked quickly, worriedly. Had he said something wrong, something that would upset her?
"No problem," she lied easily. "I just didn't realize your sister would be returning so soon. I… must have lost track of the days." She licked her dry lips, nervous. Although she had known all along that Ginny was to shadow her over the summer, it had still come as a nasty shock when she realized that Ginny was already home. The Healer-in-Training would most likely be at St. Mungo's starting within the next day or two.
Percy nodded, only partially believing her statement, but knew not to press her on it.
"So why are you outside in the rain?" Penelope asked curiously.
Percy flushed a crimson red that clashed horribly with his carrot-colored hair. "I… uh… fancied a walk." He couldn't explain to her that he felt left out among his own family. This was not the time to burden her with such complaints. After all, he'd earned exactly what he was receiving now by ignoring them all those long years.
Penelope raised one eyebrow questioningly. "Are you not happy here?" she asked, wondering if she was asking too much.
"I am happy," he replied firmly. Again, he looked back at the house. "There is just a lot going on right now, Penny. It's… complicated."
She opened her mouth, then closed it quickly. She had wanted to tell him about the conversation she had overheard, about the two men who were clearly plotting something having to do with the Ministry and Snape. It had been a few days since the incident, and it had been weighing heavily on her mind.
Still, she couldn't burden him with this, not right now when he was obviously distracted by something else.
They stood there, the two of them in the rain, silence filling the space between them.
Finally, Penelope asked, "Tell me about it?"
"You can't go home again, Pen," Percy answered cryptically. "I think I always knew that, but…"
Before he could finish whatever he had wanted to say, the door of the Burrow opened, and Mrs. Weasley came bustling out. "Percy, dear, there you are, I was looking for…" She stopped at the sight of Penelope, standing next to Percy, holding an umbrella over both their heads.
"Mum, this is Penelope Clearwater," Percy said awkwardly, hastening to make the introductions. "I think you met her once or twice in the past."
"Nice to see you again, Mrs. Weasley," Penelope offered.
"You, too, Penelope," Mrs. Weasley replied, looking back and forth between the two. Percy was holding Penelope's hands, and the moment her eyes fell on that particular feature, her entire face lit up. "Won't you come in for some tea?" she requested politely.
But Penelope had no desire to be put any more unnecessary uncomfortable situations, and shook her head, declining, "Thank you, but I can't. I need to get back to St. Mungo's." That was a complete lie, but it seemed the best thing to say at the moment.
"Penny is Healer," Percy added.
"Oh, our Ginny is training to be a Healer," Mrs. Weasley gushed.
"I know," Penny replied before she could stop herself, and she received confused stares from both Percy and Mrs. Weasley. "I… uh… saw that she was doing an internship over the summer there. It's a prestigious program, only a few students are accepted each summer."
Mrs. Weasley flushed with pleasure. "Well, you will have to come by another time, Penelope," she said encouragingly. "Percy, do come in soon, or you will catch your death of cold out here." And she bustled away as quickly as she had come.
Percy and Penelope watched her go. Then Penelope turned back to her boyfriend and said, "What were you saying? About not being able to go home?"
"Things aren't going to go back to the way they were before," Percy said softly. There was too much anger and annoyance, too much grief, for them all to reconcile. Sure, his family had welcomed him back. After the war, anyone still alive was thrilled to be reunited with their family. But conversations were still strained and it was hard to handle the ways in which he was still pushed to the side.
Penelope tilted her head to the side. "Is that a bad thing? Do you want to go back?" she asked.
Percy let out a heavy sigh. "I don't know," he admitted.
The house was small and rather compact. It was painted a soft blue-gray with white trim, and looked almost exactly like every other house on the street. The neatly trimmed front lawn was surrounded by rows of hedges, and a small plot of flowers flourished underneath the window sill.
Harry stood underneath the tree at the edge of the driveway, watching from beneath the secrecy of his invisibility cloak. He didn't want to reveal his presence quite yet, he wasn't even sure if he ever wanted them to know he was watching. He didn't even know why he was there, really, or what it was he was looking for, what he hoped to find.
It hadn't been hard to track down the appropriate address, they were technically family, after all.
The door to the house opened, and the boy who came walking out did not look like he had remembered. Dudley Dursley was still heavy, but he had lost quite a bit of weight, and the cruel, priggish expression that had remained perpetually in his eyes during their childhood was gone now. He was dressed nicely, as though he had somewhere important to be.
As Dudley stepped onto the walkway that lead through the perfectly manicured lawn, another stepped out of the house. She was still tall and thin and looked somewhat like a horse.
"Aunt Petunia," Harry mouthed, but the words were soft and did not carry on the wind. He crept closer, until he was close enough to hear their words.
"… know Mum."
"Of course, Dudley," Petunia agreed quickly to quell his annoyed tone. "Of course you know." She smiled, but it was forced and fake.
"I want to go back to Privet Drive," Dudley muttered, and his voice carried the same whining quality to it, the same tone of a spoiled brat used to getting everything he wanted.
Petunia sighed. "Maybe," she said, but her voice lacked any conviction in it. She looked away from him. "Have a good day at University."
Dudley huffed and rolled his eyes. Petunia ruffled his hair gently and turned to walked back into the house.
On a whim, Harry pulled of his invisibility cloak, appearing out of thin air in front of Dudley. To his credit, the other boy did not scream or start babbling hysterically like he would have in the past at a display of such magic. Instead he just stood there, jaw hanging open, eyes wide.
"Hullo, Dudley," he said, because it seemed like the only thing to say at the moment.
Dudley's mouth snapped shut and his eyes narrowed. "I wondered if you or any of your freak friends would show up here," he said. He walked briskly to the car parked in the driveway and pulled open the door. He paused, one hand resting on the door-handle, and lifted his eyes to Harry. "Did you want something?"
Harry blinked. Although Dudley had never been a sweet-tempered boy, the last time the two had seen each other, he had at least been civil to Harry. His change in attitude now was surprising, but then, Harry thought to himself, why would he have ever believed that Dudley's remorse at their last meeting was even genuine?
"I just… came to check on you," he faltered. He couldn't honestly say that he had any desire to see any of them right now, but something had driven him here. Standing in the town where his parents had died, he had felt a strange desire to make sure his only living blood relatives had survived the war unscathed.
"Hasn't the war been over for a few years now?" Dudley asked. "That's what the freak said when he came to tell us it was safe."
Harry blinked. "Who came? When?"
Dudley shrugged. "Tall guy. Wore a lot of black. Mum knew him. Called him something strange." He tossed his bag into the car and said in a softer voice, "It was a few months after Dad died."
Harry felt as though someone had thrown cold water over him. He stared, dumbfounded, at Dudley, but his cousin was too thick to notice the confused look. Instead, Dudley just shoved his bulky body into the car and slammed the door shut.
"Dudley," Harry called, and his cousin rolled down the window. "I'm… sorry."
For a moment, Dudley's face softened, and he looked as though he would say something. But he didn't. Instead, he backed the car out of the driveway and into the street. Harry watched him go until the car turned the corner at the far end and disappeared from view.
Harry stood on the lawn, staring out at nothing, his back turned to the house. He was so lost in his own thoughts he did not hear the front door open, or register Petunia's presence until he heard her voice.
"I wondered if we'd see you again. Rather hoped not."
Harry turned to look at her, really look at her. She was thinner than he remembered, and her face had a hollow quality to it. He took a few steps towards her. "Dudley just told me about… Uncle Vernon."
Petunia leaned against the doorframe of the house and regarded her nephew with disdain.
"Are you… I wanted to see how you were…" he trailed off.
"If you didn't know about Vernon before you came," Petunia asked in a crisp tone, "why did you come?"
Harry froze, unable to answer the question. He didn't have a reason for being here, and he tried to give a half-hearted shrug. Petunia continue to scrutinize him with a calculating glare, and he swallowed and looked down.
"How did Uncle Vernon die?" Harry asked, half-hoping it would be the answer he was expecting.
Petunia raised her eyebrows and said with little emotion, "One of you freaks."
Death Eaters. Harry swallowed and concentrated on keeping his churning emotions under control. Although Vernon's death did not cause as much grief or pain as the death of many others had, he still felt the same helpless guilt. He had brought this family into danger, and he hadn't even once thought they might not have all survived. But the Order had promised that the safe house would be safe, heavily warded, protected from evil.
"I never wanted you three to get hurt," Harry said finally, and that at least was something he could say and truly mean. "I really am… sorry."
Again, she gave him a long stare. "Not as sorry as we are," she snapped finally, tiny splotches of color appearing in her cheeks.
He realized he'd touched a nerve, somehow, and almost wanted to back away from what could have been a fight. But the anger that stilled welled so close to the surface these days refused to just let him accept her comment in silence.
"If he had cared for me, I might have cared for him," Harry said, and the moment the words were out of his mouth, he wished he could take them back.
Petunia just gave him a cold look. "Did you expect us to be grateful to have you?" she sneered. "You weren't wanted here." And he still wasn't wanted.
But not for any reasons that he would ever understand. Watching him grow up in her house had been torture. All it did was remind her of the world she had once longed to be a part of, the world that had been given solely to Lily. Both her parents had doted on Lily, had loved how unique and special she was, and Petunia had desperately wanted that, had craved the attention and the praise. Watching Harry's accidental use of magic for those ten years, and it felt as though she had reverted back to her own childhood where she was forced to watch someone else receive everything she ever wanted.
"I know," Harry said. He turned away. "Goodbye, Aunt Petunia."
He heard her walk into the house and shut the door firmly behind her. Rubbing his eyes, he walked slowly back to the sidewalk. He hadn't expected to be greeted with open arms and happy welcomes, but somehow the angry look in Petunia's eyes had hurt him more than he would have liked to admit. It had never been a home, and calling it such would have been ridiculous. And yet…
Vague regrets still left him uneasy as he turned on the spot and Apparated away.
Draco Malfoy stared along the cobblestone path that twisted through Diagon Alley. It was a warm day in London, the sun shinning brightly, illuminating everything around him. Wizards and witches hurried about, running errands, browsing through shops, and meeting with their friends. In a world still reeling from the shock and horror of the war, the young Malfoy felt out-of-place.
The feeling was not abated by the occasional glares sent his way, or the fact that two shopkeepers had already asked him to please leave their establishment. He wasn't welcome here, and he knew it.
He took a few steps towards a side alley that lead away from the bright and cheerful air all around him. Down that side alley was another place, a place that contained another type of store. He would not be welcome there, either, he knew, because of the role his parents had played in defeating the Dark Lord. No, the proprietors of Knockturn Alley would not be eager to see him again.
"You don't really fit into either world, do you?" a voice asked softly.
Draco jumped slightly, then turned and faced the man who had appeared behind him. He recognized the young Mr. Yaxley due to the great resemblance he bore to his Death Eater uncle.
Draco let his hand fall casually to his pocket, where it tightened around his wand. "Hello, Yaxley," he greeted, his voice rough, his eyes cold.
"Too Dark to be Light, too Light to be Dark," Yaxley sneered. "Did you think you would ever be welcomed back again?" He looked around, and Draco followed his gaze, noting the way people skirted around him, avoiding him as though his very presence contaminated the air.
Draco forced himself to look back at Yaxley, to meet his gaze. "What do you want?" he hissed.
"Quite the temper," Yaxley mocked. He folded his arms over his chest, his wand dangling from between two of his fingers on his right hand. "I want to see if you are made of a different sort of stuff than either of your parents."
Draco swallowed a bitter taste in his mouth. "I won't ever turn against them, if that is what you are asking."
Yaxley clicked his tongue impatiently and said, "They are the ones who turned against you, Mr.Malfoy, by dragging you away from the Dark Lord and his rightful place as ruler of our world. But you are a pure blood, and a powerful one at that. Perhaps… if you were still aligned with our cause…"
"I'm not," Malfoy said firmly, emphatically.
"Well, well, well… look who it is." Ernie Macmillan strode boldly forward, eyeing Draco with disgust. He slanted a look at Yaxley, his expression turning even more sour, and said, "I guess you still like hanging with your father's old crowd, Malfoy."
Draco pushed back the desire to hex the pompous boy and replied coolly, "You probably shouldn't go sticking your nose into other people's business, Macmillan. You might end up losing it."
Macmillan pulled out his wand in one swift movement, and Draco thought idly to himself that the pretentious Hufflepuff had grown up during the war. He now had the backbone to match his words.
"Is that a threat?"
Draco shook his head. "Of course not," he sneered. "I wouldn't waste time threatening you." He curled his lip and added, "You're not worth the effort."
"Careful what you say, Malfoy," Macmillan hissed back, "you aren't as powerful anymore. Daddy's not here to protect you."
Yaxely stepped forward, resting one hand on Draco's shoulder, raising his wand with the other. "Maybe not," he snarled, "but I am. Keep a civil tongue in your mouth, or I'll remove it for you."
A crowd was beginning to form, and a familiar redhead pushed his way to the front. George Weasley glanced at the two in front of him, and remarked in a biting tone, "Haven't turned your back on the Dark Arts, have you Malfoy? I knew everyone was a fool to trust you."
Draco rolled his eyes. "You know nothing," he said, pushing Yaxley's hand off of his shoulder. He did not want to be associated with that blood purist, although he knew that most everyone would forever see him as someone who wanted only to advance his own cause.
Weasley smirked, and drew his wand. "I know you would have been better off dead," he said viciously.
"Sorry, that particular honor had to go to your pathetic twin," Draco retorted hotly.
"How dare you?" Weasley spat, his face twisting in rage. "Did you have a hand in it, Malfoy? Where you really working for Voldemort all along, coming up with ways to get my family killed?"
"Contrary to what you obviously believe," Draco answered, "I do not waste any time thinking about you or your insipid family. Not that I don't rejoice over the fact that the world is finally spared having to deal with at least one of you…"
The curse left Weasley's wand before Draco could completely register what was happening, but Yaxley raised a shield to deflect the attack.
"Enough," a voice bellowed, and several wizards appeared, each wearing the distinctive Auror robes. In the chaos that followed their arrival, Draco felt a hand clamp down on his shoulder, and he was pulled away.
Away from the mob, Draco yanked himself out of Yaxley's grasp. "I told you," he said angrily, "I'm not interested in your cause."
"I wonder how much more of this you can take," Yaxley mused, his voice harsh and grating. "How long will you have to be an outsider before you realize that there are merits to belonging somewhere?"
Draco glared defiantly at him and said, "I won't join you."
Yaxley shrugged. "Have it your way," he said. "But if you ever change your mind, the offer will remain open." And he was gone with a loud crack and a rush of wind.