The Courting Games
Chapter Seven: The Many Practical Uses of Intrigue
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter
Author's Note: Le gasp! An update! Who would have believed the gods would allow a university student enough free time to put together enough words to placate the rabid readers with another chapter? Not me, that's for sure.
I'd like to thank everyone who reviewed, alerted, favourited and cared enough to PM me and nag for an update, this one's for you guys!
But enough with the prelude and on to the main event! Go forth and read!
Harry finished the last sentence of his Herbology essay with a sharp jab of his quill and a relieved sigh and leaned back against the arm of the loveseat he was currently occupying. He was so tired he couldn't even summon up the energy to hold his eyes open. He drifted into a doze, lulled by the flickering of the fire and the rhythmic cheers that accompanied the demonstration of Fred and George's latest pranking genius.
The room was unfamiliar and dimly lit yet he could see almost perfectly the chair where the Dark Lord reclined indolently, a glass of white wine dangling from his long pale fingers in one hand and his wand twirling slowly around the fingers of the other. There was a Death Eater kneeling before him his head bowed.
"Look at me, Severus," he ordered.
Snape raised his head and met the Dark Lord's eyes. Voldemort flicked his wand and Snape's half-mask clattered into the corner revealing the Potions Master's dark empty eyes set into familiar features blanked of emotion.
"Make your report."
Snape broke eye contact to nod respectfully and then began.
"Dumbledore has not been able to divine anything of your recruiting activities, my lord, and he is losing support both within the government, and in the public eye. A few devotees remain loyal of course, but that was to be expected, all in all Lucius' plans have proven successful in many areas. The Order has not had anything significant to report, their only leverage is their guard on the Department of Mysteries and they grow anxious and sloppy waiting for you to make your move. They will not be more than a trifling inconvenience."
"I am pleased to hear this, Severus, and what of Potter?"
"I am aggrieved to report that there is no hope of success on that front my lord. The boy cannot be taken from the castle and he cannot be held anywhere, Dumbledore has woven his enchantments well."
The Dark Lord's red eyes flashed with temper, and Harry felt a distant burning.
"This deliberate failure will not be born, Severus, you have had plenty of opportunity to abduct the boy and have failed to do so, crucio."
A jet of red light lit the room for a second and Snape was flung to his back twitching and moaning in agony until the moaning became screaming. Only then did the Dark Lord release him.
"Now Severus, justify your continued failure to me and I may be inclined to be lenient," the Dark Lord said taking a small sip of his wine.
It took Snape a long moment to catch his breath and arrange himself back into his respectful kneel.
"I have discovered that when Dumbledore erected the wards that conceal Potter during the summer, he also tied to them locator wards that activate when the boy is in distress. Even if I managed to take the boy from under the Old Coot's nose, he could be unconscious and under Fidelius and still his unwillingness to be wherever we put him would activate the locator and Dumbledore would then come for him. He must travel under his own free will without magical or physical coercion," Snape concluded.
"I must lure him out then, very well, I have already laid the groundwork for that," shrugged the Dark Lord.
"My lord is cunning to have done so," Snape complimented.
"You failed me, Severus, your pretty flatteries will not serve to exempt you from punishment."
"That does not make them any less the truth, my lord," Snape said simply.
"Crucio."
Harry could almost feel the reverberation of that pain throughout his body and he shivered at its nearness and backed away.
The Dark Lord said something Harry couldn't hear. Another red curse flew through the room lighting it for a sparse second and then Harry jerked awake.
His homework slipped off his chest and onto the floor with a dull thunk and Harry's eyes popped open taking in the familiar warm golden and scarlet glow of the Gryffindor common room.
His head ached and his scar burned horribly. He casually swiped his hand across his forehead only mildly surprised to find it came away bloody. He scraped his fringe over it. No sense worrying anybody.
Fred and George had packed up their product demonstration and retired to their dorms with their earnings and so had the rest of Gryffindor, in fact the only one really still awake was Hermione who was scribbling some Arithmacy proof that took up a full foot of parchment.
Ron who had been dozing blinked his eyes open slowly and stared blearily into the fire.
"Sirius!" he said.
Harry nearly gave himself whiplash as he sprung upright and grinned. There was Sirius' head suspended amongst the flames his long hair tousled and his grey eyes dancing with mirth.
"Hi," he said with an answering grin.
"Hey," greeted the teens leaving their plush chairs to kneel on the hearthrug.
Even Crookshanks slunk as near to the fire as he could get purring like a lawnmower and Hermione had to pull him back to keep him from setting fire to his whiskers.
"How're things?"
"Not great," Harry said, "You've heard about the Ministry decrees, right? Well this latest one has effectively banned Quidditch,"
"And secret Defence Groups," said Sirius.
"How did you know about that?" demanded Hermione.
"Yeah," said Ron crossly, "It's meant to be secret."
Sirius laughed.
"You three still have a lot to learn, the Hog's Head, really? You couldn't have stood out more if you'd tried."
"Well, we couldn't have very well had it in the Three Broomsticks, that place is always packed," Hermione pointed out.
"All the better to conceal a large gathering and discourage eavesdroppers," Sirius pointed out.
"So, who ratted us out?" Harry asked.
"Mundungus, of course."
"Dung was there?" said Ron, "Where?"
"He was the witch under the veil."
"Bloody hell."
"What was Mundungus doing there anyway—no, never mind, let me guess, he was guarding me. Well, that's annoying," Harry sighed.
"Just as well though, isn't it, if the first thing you're going to do on your day off is organize and illegal defence group," Sirius pointed out.
He didn't look particularly upset or worried though. On the contrary, Sirius was beaming at Harry with rather distinct pride.
"Why did Dung go and hide from us though?" said Ron, "We'd have like to have seen him."
"Speak for yourself, I'd have hexed him six ways from Sunday," Harry said.
"Mundungus got himself banned from the Hog's Head twenty years ago, that barman's got a long memory. Since we lost Moody's spare Invisibility Cloak when Sturgis was arrested, Dung's been dressing up as a witch a lot lately. Now, before I forget, Ron – I swore I'd pass a message on from your mother."
"Alright," said Ron looking a bit pale and nervous.
"She says under no circumstances are you to participate in an illegal secret defence against the dark arts group. She says you'll be expelled for sure and ruin your whole future. She says that you're still young and have plenty of time to learn how to defend yourselves in the future and shouldn't be worrying about that right now. She also," Sirius said turning his head to more directly face Harry and Hermione, "Advises the two of you not to join up, though she recognizes that she has no authority over either of you, she begs you to remember that she only has your best interests at heart."
"She lays it on pretty thick," Ron commented.
"She would have written to you about it but if the owl had been intercepted you'd all have been in serious trouble and she couldn't come tonight because it's her turn on duty," Sirius reported dutifully.
"On duty for what?" asked Ron quickly.
"Never you mind about that, Order business is all. In any case it's fallen to me to be the messenger, and make sure you let her know I passed it all on because I don't think she trusts me to," Sirius said ruefully.
Harry stared at Sirius for a long moment, while Hermione stroked Crookshanks and Ron poked his index finger through a hole in the hearthrug.
"What do you think of this whole thing Sirius?" Harry finally asked.
"Me, I think it's a brilliant idea!" Sirius said brightly, "Do you think that James and I would have sat back and let a pompous old windbag like Umbridge run roughshod over our lives?"
"Last year, you were very vocal about the fact that I should be careful, keep my nose clean, that sort of thing," Harry pointed out.
"Last year we only thought someone was trying to kill you, this year we know someone is trying to kill you, so, if you ask me, learning to defend yourself is a pretty smart plan," Sirius pointed out.
"And if we're expelled?" Hermione asked.
"Blimey, Mione, this was your idea!"
"I just want to know what Sirius thinks," she said.
"If you ask me it's better to be expelled and know how to defend yourself then be sitting ducks waiting in school without a clue," Sirius said, "Speaking of, how are you organizing this thing?"
A slow vindictive smile curved Harry's lips.
"Don't worry your pretty little head about it, Sirius. We've got it under control."
Sirius looked taken aback for half-a-second before chuckling, "Turnabout's fair play I suppose," he conceded.
"I do have an idea about how we can stop worrying about the owls being intercepted though," Harry said.
"Really?" chorused Ron, Hermione, and Sirius.
"Yeah, I've been thinking about it for a bit now and what if we used the same spells as on the Map, password protected concealment? Then we can write a normal hey how are you letter, and have it pass the mail screenings with any sensitive information," Harry said.
There was a long moment of silence.
"That's brilliant! Why on Earth didn't I think of it before? The spells are difficult of course, but for secure communication it's worth it," Sirius declared.
"Harry," squealed Hermione hugging him tightly, "I'm so proud of you."
"Good thinking, mate," said Ron.
"Hermione...can't breathe!" Harry gasped.
"Right, sorry."
Sirius chuckled and Hermione flushed sheepishly.
"I don't have time to teach you the spells tonight, but I'm sure you'll be able to figure them out, we found them in A Wizards Guide to Treasure Hunting by Pisces Greybeard, but if you can find a copy they go into more depth in the Invisible Book of Invisibility, in the section on concealment charms. I'll—"
He broke off looking alarmed at the brick wall of the fireplace, and in short order he'd disappeared.
"What the—"
Hermione covered her mouth to muffle a shriek.
There in the fire was a hand, a stubby fingered hand with a number of old-fashioned rings decorating it, groping around in the coals as though it knew exactly where Sirius' long hair had been a moment before and was determined to grab it.
Crookshanks hissed and bolted.
The teens scrambled to their feet, gathered up their homework and did the same. Harry and Ron slunk past their snoring and oblivious dorm mates.
"That was too close for my comfort," Harry muttered.
"Yeah," Ron agreed in a quiet choked sort of voice as he pulled on his pyjamas and padded into the bathroom.
Too wired to sleep Harry sorted through the jumble of papers that was his homework. He was surprised when an unmarked envelope sealed with black wax slipped out from between two pages of his finished Herbology essay.
"When did this come?" he asked Ron as he re-emerged from the bathroom.
"Oh, that? Grumpy owl dropped it off 'round one, you were asleep," Ron said, "You courting again?"
"Yeah, looks like it might go well this time too," said Harry grinning, "Night Ron."
Ron mumbled something in answer and Harry pulled his hangings shut and conjured a witchlight by which he could read Draco's letter.
He paused before opening it, a semi-familiar shivery feeling running down his spine. Hermione always said it was a goose walking over his grave, but he'd felt this before…tonight...in the vision of the Dark Lord and Snape. The reverberation of pain down whatever connection he had to Voldemort.
Harry closed his eyes and tried to pinpoint the feeling.
There was a slight burning in his scar and then it was like being swept down a long tunnel and at the end of it, he could feel Snape. He could feel the life seeping out of him.
Harry's eyes snapped open.
He wasn't entirely sure how he knew Snape was dying but he knew and he wasn't just going to sit here and do nothing. If nothing else he owed the man for not bringing him straight to Voldemort, seeing as the explanations he'd fed the Dark Lord about why he couldn't be kidnapped were complete and utter bullshit. It was more than a bit his fault that Snape was in his current situation.
Harry grabbed the Map and the Cloak and extinguished the witchlight.
"Where are you going?" murmured Ron, mostly asleep.
"I can't sleep, I'm gonna sneak down to the library and find that book Sirius was talking about," Harry lied easily as he slipped on his shoes.
Ron grunted something in response and rolled over.
Harry snuck back out of the fifth year Gryffindor boys' dorm and was glad to see that Umbridge's pawing mitt was gone from the dying fire in the common room fireplace. Harry briefly consulted the Map and found Snape in his chambers.
"Stupid, stubborn, old bastard," Harry cursed to himself as he tossed the cloak around his shoulders.
Snape should have gone straight to the Hospital Wing and availed himself of the services of Poppy Pomfrey, spy or not.
Harry slipped out the portrait hole undetected and made a beeline for the Hospital Wing. The route was clear and Harry undid Madam Pomfrey's wards with the ease of long practice and took a familiar set of potions off the shelf.
Snape would probably have these potions in his quarters but Harry had no idea where to begin looking for them and he probably didn't have the time to spare searching.
He had to detour through the Trophy Room to avoid Mrs. Norris before doubling back down the increasingly familiar route to the dungeons.
He consulted the map again by wand light. He'd never been to Snape's or any of the other teacher's private quarters, and the only reason he had any idea where they were was because he spent so much time making sure they were asleep while he was up wandering the castle after curfew. He was surprised to find the dot that read Draco Malfoy lingering in front of Snape's door.
Harry took the short flight of wide stone steps two at a time and took two lefts and a right and found the blond in a pair of black cotton sleep pants and a dark green Slytherin flavoured Quidditch t-shirt. He had his wand out and was pointing it at the portrait guardian, a snake in the tall grass. His sharp features were twisted into a familiar enraged snarl.
"Abattoir! Abattoir! Abattoir! Damn you to the seventh hell! Let me in you poor excuse for a water colour!" Draco all but shrieked.
~No students~ hissed the apple green grass snake in the painting as though repeating an order.
"Move," Harry ordered whipping off his Invisibility Cloak.
"Potter? What the hell—" said Draco looking surprised and hesitant.
"Get the fuck out of my way, Draco!" he snapped.
Draco moved to one side and Harry looked the snake directly in the eyes.
~ We have given you the password, snake. You will admit us, or I will reduce you to ash,~ Harry half hissed half snarled in parseltongue.
Draco shivered slightly behind him, but Harry didn't have the time to explain what he was doing so he could just damn well be uncomfortable.
~Master has said, no students,~ the snake pleaded, ~Speaker is a student, Speaker may not enter, Master says so,~
~Sometimes the Master does things that are not good for him, the Master is dying, he needs us, let us pass!~
The snake hissed something unintelligible, dithering, as the apple green coils disappeared into the tall grass, but the portrait swung open a minute later and Harry and Draco wasted no time before dashing inside.
The stone floor was dotted here and there with blood spatters. Harry took a deep breath of the thick metallic scented air, and steeled himself for what he would find in the room beyond. He took one very necessary mental step sideways before striding into the sitting room.
There Severus Snape lay, bare-chested, unconscious and barely breathing his blood soaking into the dark fabric of the throw rug in front of a dark wood liquor cabinet as his muscles shuddered and twitched weakly. His shirt and robes were a shredded mess in a pile on the floor.
His back was the worst.
"Oh, gods," Draco said in a strangled whisper, "What—"
Harry took another slight mental step to the side, into that place where nothing could touch him.
"Cutting curses, Cruciatus, and it looks like these strips here have been flayed off," Harry said clinically gesturing at the mess of Snape's back.
Draco went very white and then turned and vomited into a tall decorative urn, a rather fanciful thing, black with gold etchings that Harry wouldn't have thought was to Snape's taste.
Harry reached out a hand automatically, but curled his fingers in, not sure if his interference, his comfort, would be welcome. Draco retched again and Harry told his mental propriety check to shove it and rubbed the blond's back as he dry-heaved.
"Draco, come on, I need you to keep it together," he muttered somewhere near the other teen's ear.
Draco nodded wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
"Get off, I'm fine," he said shrugging off Harry's arm.
Harry backed off and turned back to Snape. He heard Draco cast the vanishing spell on the urn and move into the bathroom to wash up.
Harry flicked his wand and muttered the same sleeping spell he'd used on Draco and then moved the couch and chairs and levitated Snape at waist height over the already ruined throw rug. He examined his professor's injuries with a critical eye. He'd been under Madam Pomfrey's wand often enough between quidditch and his extracurricular adventures that he'd picked up a bit of healing know-how. Snape's injuries weren't all that complicated but there were just so many of them. The task seemed daunting. Harry shook his head to clear the doubt from his mind and focussed. One thing at a time.
"I'm going to need Essence of Dittany in a minute. Can you find it in his stores?" Harry asked Draco as he reappeared looking pale but composed.
"Of course," Draco nodded, kneeling and digging around in the wine-cabinet.
Harry held the professor's nose closed until he opened his mouth to breathe and dumped one of the Blood-Replenishing potions he'd nicked down his throat. Though Snape had probably already taken an anti-Cruciatus potion earlier, judging by the lack of violent twitching, Harry administered another one just to be safe.
"Got it!" said Draco dashing over.
"Good."
Harry waved his wand and doused the professor in cool water to clean the wounds, the rug squelched wetly under his shoes and he tried not to think too carefully about what it was soaked with lest he need to make creative use of the urn himself.
He then flipped Snape onto his back and gestured at Draco to begin administering the Dittany. To the blond Slytherin's credit, he didn't even flinch as he carefully pipetted small amounts of the clear liquid onto his respected professor's mutilated back. The skin on either side of the wide strips of missing flesh began to grow over the angry red wounds, they wouldn't even scar. Expensive and difficult to obtain it was still the best remedy for flesh wounds available.
"That's good."
"But—"
"It's healing, the skin needs time to grow, don't waste the whole bottle, he'll probably need it later," Harry said gently prying the bottle and pipette out of Draco's white-knuckled grasp.
"Aren't we going to use it on the cuts?"
"No, they're not serious as long as we keep the bleeding down. He can heal them himself in the morning, unless you can do the spell?"
Draco shook his head no, looking frustrated by his lack of knowledge.
Harry flicked his wand and a length of thick white bandages wound itself around Snape's torso and upper arms. Harry forced another few potions that would prevent infection and slow the bleeding down his professor's throat and then stepped back for a long moment to survey his handiwork.
Snape had stopped shuddering under the after effects of the cruciatus curse and was no longer bleeding out onto his carpet. His ashen face was slowly regaining its normal sallow complexion and his breathing was slow and steady in enchanted sleep.
Harry let out a slow breath and his hands began to shake slightly.
"Is he going to be alright?" asked Draco.
"I think so. It looks like we've handled the worst of it."
Hesitantly he closed his eyes and sort of made a mental reach to Snape. It was easy now that he knew what he was searching for. Snape's left hand twitched slightly and Harry could feel the, not health, but hurt-not-dying sense from Snape.
Harry let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding and nodded to himself.
"Guess this makes us even, Severus Snape," he murmured running a thumb over the exposed blemish that was the dark mark on his professor's left forearm.
There was a slight fizzle of sensation, like a sudden chill, and Harry quickly moved his hand away.
"Let's get him into bed," Draco said, watching Harry with wary curiosity.
Together the teens got their professor into a pair of pyjamas – black, Harry was amused to note – without scarring themselves for life in the process and tucked him into his bed.
"You're going to have to stay with him and dump these down his throat every three hours or so," Harry said quietly setting the remaining blood replenishers out on Snape's nightstand.
"Yeah, I know," said Draco, "Potter, Harry, you – you won't mention this to Dumbledore, will you?"
"As far as anyone other than you is concerned, I was never here. You patched him up yourself. I'm sure you'll think of some viable excuse."
Draco made a face.
"Not that he'll thank me in the morning," he sighed.
Harry laughed at the blond's put upon expression.
"Hide his wand before he wakes up, then at least you'll have a fifty-fifty chance of survival."
Draco groaned as he settled himself into a chair and prepared to get no sleep.
"Yeah, no kidding," he sighed.
Harry turned to go.
"Po—Harry,"
He paused, and turned to face the Malfoy heir who was looking very thin, frail and drained at the moment. Not at all his usual arrogant self.
"Yeah?"
"Thanks, for coming, for helping him. I wouldn't have known what to do on my own...he's my godfather you know, I care for him, I don't know what I'd have done if he'd..."
"I think you underestimate yourself," Harry said.
He worried his lip slightly, indecision flashing in his green eyes, then he bent and pressed a chaste kiss to Draco's forehead. He turned to go and Draco caught him by the hand, and pulled him back.
Their lips met in a longer, deeper kiss. Harry shivered as heat flooded through him, slow and languid. They broke apart after a long moment and rested their foreheads together as they caught their breaths.
"Try to get some sleep. I'll have the house-elves get rid of the rug and bring the two of you breakfast."
"How are you going to manage that?" asked Draco.
"I have my ways," Harry said with a tired grin.
He stole one last peck from Draco and then left Snape's quarters.
~Master lives?~
~Your Master lives, snake, thank you,~
~Speaker,~
~Yes?~
~You are a protector of the nest, the others will know, we shan't stand in your way again,~
Not knowing what to make of that cryptic little tidbit, Harry simply nodded to the snake and pulled on his invisibility cloak.
Harry found Dobby and Winky exactly where he expected them to be, cleaning up in the Gryffindor common room.
"Mister Harry Potter, sir!" exclaimed Dobby excitedly throwing himself at Harry's legs and hugging them tightly.
Winky gave a more sedate curtsy.
"Dobby, Winky, I don't want to make any trouble for you two but if you could dispose of the carpet in Professor Snape's sitting room and arrange for someone to bring him and Draco Malfoy a tray for breakfast tomorrow I would be very grateful," Harry said.
"Tis not being any trouble Mister Harry Potter, sir, we is happy to be doing as you asks," Winky replied positively glowing at the request.
Dobby was uncharacteristically quiet. Harry knelt down so that they were looking each other in the eyes.
"I understand if you don't want to because Draco is involved," he said quietly.
"No, I is doing what Mister Harry Potter, sir, is asking. I will not be talking to young Master Draco. Young Master Draco is not remembering me, t'will not be hard, sir," said Dobby determinedly eyes flashing.
"I will be right beside you," Winky said encouragingly and the two elves disappeared with a loud pop.
That done Harry shot a suspicious glance at the banked coals in the fireplace and trudged up the stairs to his dorm.
He kicked his shoes off and flopped onto his bed. A quick tempus told him it was closing in on four in the morning.
He didn't dare shut his eyes, all he'd get for his trouble was nightmares.
Instead he sighed conjured a witchlight and got changed into some sweats. Harry packed his book bag for the next day and grabbed a clean uniform to change into. He would go to the library, find that spell Sirius had mentioned and then go for a long run before breakfast.
Harry picked up Draco's letter and tucked it into his pocket. He would read it in the library.
Harry snuck out of Gryffindor Tower for the second time that night and broke into the Library without any trouble. Filch had long since gone to bed but just to be safe Harry made a fort out of his invisibility cloak and a study terminal.
He raided the stacks and hid in his little nook under the terminal with a few books and finally gave in to temptation and opened Draco's letter.
You seriously think that Umbridge has the stones to make an attempt your life? She's a sycophant and a fanatic, nothing more.
It's hard to say whether or not Defence would be my second favourite subject even if Snape did teach it, there is something incredibly soothing about brewing potions. I have been doing it since I was a child. However, Professor Snape is my favourite teacher and in large part the reason for my love of the subject. No, I honestly could not decide without being in the situation.
No, to my father's constant consternation Granger continues to get top marks in Arithmacy. Even if I happen to have a better term grade somehow she ends up doing better on the exam. It is truly the most frustrating thing ever. I think she runs herself into the ground studying just to have the satisfaction of beating me.
The fact that you keep saying the Dark Lord's name bothers me.
Honestly, I would rather not speak of affiliations – no religion or politics at the dinner table, so to speak – but I don't think we need to mark the subject as taboo. I would like to think we are both mature enough to accept our difference of opinion and move forward. That being said since neither of us is particularly used to exercising that maturity where the other is concerned, who can say what will happen? The point I'm trying to make is we're not going to get anywhere avoiding the problem and we're not going to get anywhere worrying about it prematurely so let's just deal with the issue as it actually presents itself.
Christmas, or rather the Solstice, with my family is rather a lot like what I imagine when I imagine the Ton in the golden years of the aristocracy, a constant stream of dazzling celebrations and amusements for the wealthy. At the end of it all you feel so drained that you need a vacation from your holiday! The revelries are broken up by a private family dinner and a morning of gift opening. When I was younger it was all about the flash and glitter of it all, and as a Malfoy I was very accustomed to flash and glitter even at that age. You can imagine how extravagant the entire affair was, it had always entranced me. That and of course the expectation of presents. Now though I find myself looking back on those days in a different sort of light. My grandparents, that is my father's father and his second wife, used to come for the first dinner on solstice night and stay until after dinner on Christmas Day. After the fall of the Dark Lord they moved to France to manage the Malfoy holdings there so I rarely saw them outside of special occasions and the winter holidays were by far the best of them. I never realized how much I enjoyed having the entire family around for the season until they weren't there anymore.
The best gift I ever received was from Grandmama Celeste. I was eight and just learning what being a Malfoy meant about my place in the world as compared to the places of others. Needless to say I had found the peak of my self-importance. My grandmother, wise woman that she was, knew that the glamour of the Malfoy name would fade as I learned of my responsibilities and duties to the family and estate. In anticipation of the disillusionment to come she bought me a house. She said that being a Malfoy was all well and good but that this house was not for a Malfoy, an Heir Apparent or a young Master. This house was to be for her grandson Draco. It is the only thing I have that isn't entailed to the Malfoy Estate, it's my house.
Before next Solstice grandfather died, officially the cause was a heart condition. The French Ministry suspected foul play of some kind but they couldn't prove anything and the culprit was never found. Grandmama was lost to her grief. She shut herself away and just stopped living. The only reason she didn't manage to neglect herself into death is because of devoted servants who wouldn't let her. Father insisted she come to England for the Solstice and so she came and tried very hard to pretend she was fine. I could tell that she was unhappy. So I begged my mother, my father, St. Nick, Merlin, and any gods who cared to listen to make her smile for real. I even offered up all of my presents in exchange. But she didn't smile.
She still doesn't even though she is much improved from those first few years. You never would have believed that my grandfather close-minded and hard-hearted as he was could inspire such single-minded devotion. He was the quintessential Lord Malfoy, everything my father tried to emulate, the standard of comportment to which I was held, and despite all of that she loved him. The old bastard probably never even knew how much.
Good Merlin, I've become maudlin.
On the subject of House Elves...Why are we discussing House Elves of all things? I always thought you were humouring Granger, supporting her little campaign. It had an awful acronym but for the life of me I can't remember what it was. I digress, to be perfectly honest I don't particularly care one way or the other about House Elves. They are without a doubt incredibly useful creatures and if it became absolutely necessary I would, I believe, pay them wages before losing their aid entirely. I have cleaned up after myself a time or two for punishment or as a character building exercise or both, without magic I might add, and I have since endeavoured not to repeat the experience.
The concept of paying the elves though, is a very muggle one and I don't understand it. Why pay the elves for work they are tripping over themselves with eagerness to do? We give them food, work, shelter, and the necessary magics to avoid the need to declare allegiance to a faerie court and become embroiled in Otherworldly politics. There was a time when you couldn't even mention having Otherworldly housekeepers, now they can be acknowledged for their services and even sought after. Lower Fae have never had it so good without belonging to a faerie monarch. Why bring money or payment into it at all? Why on Earth would you want to? Isn't life complicated enough without having to negotiate with the fae who I might add take debt very seriously?
As to Umbridge, do you really need to ask? Of course I'm in it for the power. It is insulting to insinuate otherwise. Each one of her so called Educational Decrees are the most ridiculous compilations of self-serving short-sighted drivel I have ever had the displeasure of enforcing. The woman is merely a means to an end, the end of course being to strip Dumbledore of clout and credibility thus creating a power vacuum the Malfoys or their associates could fill. The fact that the woman is herself has proven...inconvenient, to my house and to me personally, which leads me to asking you for a favour. I know that you've arranged for defence instruction for some people (relax St. Potter that's all I or anyone else knows of your activities) and I was wondering if you might do the same for the Slytherins? I haven't any idea how the other houses are getting their instruction and I don't care but my house needs to benefit despite the current circumstances. Or perhaps because of them. Whatever, the point is years one through five need regular instruction that tutors and upperclassmen just can't provide. I don't want to dump this on Snape's plate and it is after all my father's fault Slytherin is in this situation. Can you help me?
I will save my other questions for tomorrow night and ask them in person. I am counting on your rule-breaking experience to keep us from being caught. That being said if we are caught I will, of course, throw you to the wolves without a second thought. Fair warning.
Until next time.
Yours.
Harry read the letter several times astounded by the trust Draco was putting in him by revealing these intimate details about himself. All these little things he would have never in a million years have credited to the blond Slytherin.
Draco, he was coming to realize, was very good at hiding behind other people's expectations. Another trait that they shared.
His request for help with defence presented a very interesting dilemma and Harry's brain was already filling with plans about how to accommodate him. He was going to need Professor McGonagall's help with some of it he was sure and it would cut yet another massive chunk out of his free time but it wasn't like he was sleeping nowadays anyway.
AN: Alright guys, I know there is a lot of stuff going on in this chapter and its a little more dramatic and serious than what you've seen so far. Welcome to Big Plot Development, who thought we'd never get here?
Raise your hands don't be shy.
Thing is, I don't want to do only big drammatic plot development and ignore the character development foundations that attracted you all to this story in the first place, so for gods sake tell me if Harry and Draco are getting OOC...er, that is to say more than can be explained by their suddenly being gay and having a budding forbidden romance. Yeah.
To summarize:
If it's craptastic, tell me, will edit!
Alright, now that I'm done agonizing, thanks so much for reading, hope you enjoyed, please leave a review and ensure your thoughts will be immortalized in Times New Roman 12 size font!