The Bond of Brothers
A/N: Well, I'm fairly certain I'm going with Draco/Hermione, but this pairing won't happen for a while yet. Thank you all so much for giving me your opinions! It's definitely going to be a challenge for me to write a pairing that isn't canon, but I'm very much looking forward to it :)
A HUGE thank you to my lovely reviewers for last chapter! MaileS, Seablue eyes 9311, DaughterOfApollo96, Peregrinus, MDarKspIrIt, and my five anonymous reviewers. Officially the most reviews I've ever had with only two chapters of a story!
Chapter Two:
It was the last day of summer, and Diagon Alley should've been bustling with life and excitement. Instead, the streets were bare and colorless, shoppers not stopping to browse the windows, darting from one store to the next, afraid to spend too long out in the open. It was an overall depressing atmosphere, which did nothing to raise Harry's already bitter mood. He'd been looking forward to the annual shopping trip for the last few weeks, eager to purchase some books dealing with extra curricular subjects. If he was going to stand a chance of surviving the coming war, and protecting those he cared about along the way, he needed to learn more than what he was taught in the classroom. But Mrs. Weasley hadn't even let him go into Flourish and Blotts, ignoring his protests outright and sending them off to Madam Malkin's with express instructions to meet at Fred and George's shop in fifteen minutes.
His frustration only increased with a badly timed run in with Draco Malfoy and his mother at the robe shop. Needless to say, by the time he entered Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, not even the whimsical joke shop could brighten his bad temper. He put on a polite smile, congratulated the twins on their apparent success, humbly accepted a few of their more defensive inventions, and then quietly separated himself from the group. He made his way to a secluded corner near the front of the store, pretending to look at some candies that could turn your hair and skin different colors while looking for a window to escape the watchful presence of the Order's guards that had been tailing him all day.
He glanced surreptitiously out the large front window, checking to see who was standing watch at the front of the store, when he saw something that caught his attention. Draco Malfoy, having slipped away from his mother, was walking quickly in the direction Harry knew led towards Knockturn Alley, nervously glancing over his shoulder every few steps. Instantly, Harry's suspicions were raised, wondering exactly what business the Slytherin had that would lead him the notoriously darker side of Wizarding London.
Checking quickly to see if anyone was watching him at the moment, he made a split decision, one he'd probably regret later, and ducked out of the twins' shop. He hid hastily in the shadows, waiting just long enough to make sure he hadn't been spotted before creeping along as inconspicuously as he could manage behind Malfoy.
He'd been following the other boy for less than a minute when the blond stopped at a corner and swept his eyes over the deserted shops around them. Quickly, Harry ducked into a small nook between to boarded up shops, letting out a breath when Malfoy's gaze passed harmlessly over him. A few seconds later, when Malfoy seemed satisfied that he wasn't being followed, he turned down a small alley and out of sight.
Moving out from his hiding spot, Harry rushed to catch up, not willing to let the boy leave his sight for long, but he only made it a few steps when he heard a noise behind him. Whipping about, he reached for his wand, but his pursuer was faster.
"Expelliarmus," a feminine voice spoke, and his wand went flying from his hand, soaring in a neat arc towards a hooded figure who caught it deftly in a pale hand.
"Who are you, what do you want?" He demanded, angry that he'd been too busy following Malfoy that he hadn't noticed someone doing the very same to him.
"It's not wise to wander alone these days, Harry. Especially for you." There was something familiar about the silky voice, but he couldn't place it.
"I can take care of myself," He said, squaring his shoulders, sorely aware that the mysterious woman was in possession of his wand.
The woman laughed drily. "Yes, I can see that," She replied, tossing his wand back to him.
Instinctively, he shot his hand out and caught the stick of holly, completely confused by the stranger's intentions. Who attacks someone, he asked himself, then turns around and gives their victim back his wand?
"Relax, Harry, I mean you no harm. I only wish to speak with you," said the stranger, holding up her hands in mock surrender.
He narrowed his eyes. "Show me your face and I'll consider it."
With excessive flourish, the woman pulled back her hood, revealing long tresses of blond hair around a pale, sharp face and grey eyes that Harry was all too familiar with. Everything suddenly made sense to him. Mrs. Malfoy was trying to stop him from following her son and finding out whatever he was planning.
"I spoke the truth, Harry, I do not want to hurt you. I ask only that you listen to what I have to say."
Harry scoffed. "And why should I trust you? For all I know you want revenge for your husband being thrown in Azkaban."
"I do not condone my husband's actions, or his allegiances." There was a raw pain to her words that startled him. He furrowed his brow in confusion.
"Are you saying your not one of his followers?"
"Yes, Harry," she nodded, her tone solemn. "I am no a more a Death Eater than your mother was."
"My mum?" Harry repeated, feeling a bubble of indignation rise at the mention of his mother. "What would you know about my mum?"
Mrs. Malfoy's eyes went unfocused, a strange expression flitting over her face. "Much more than you know."
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" His raised voice snapped Mrs. Malfoy out of her daze, and she fixed him with her sharp eyes.
"Now is not the proper time or place, Harry. We have only minutes before your absence will be noticed. Will you listen to what I have to say?"
"Yes," he replied after a few moments, ignoring the rational part of his mind telling him to walk away from this potentially dangerous situation. She made it seem like she knew his mother well, and even though he knew she could be lying, something in his gut told him otherwise. He decided he would listen to this woman, giving her one chance for the sake of his mother's memory.
"I need your help," she said, her voice lowering to hushed tones.
"What could I possibly help you with?"
"You can help save my son."
He blinked, stunned. He wasn't sure what he'd been expecting, but this certainly hadn't been it. "You want me to help Draco?"
"Yes," she breathed. "You're the only one who can."
"This has to be some kind of sick, twisted, Death Eater joke…"
"Harry," Mrs. Malfoy surprised him by gripping his arm, digging her nails into his flesh. "You have to speak with him, show him that he has another choice."
"Another choice?" Harry was beginning to wonder if this was all some bizarre dream brought on by one of Fred and George's pranks.
"The Dark Lord has set a task to Draco-"
"What! He's a Death Eater you mean!" Harry tried to pull his arm free from Mrs. Malfoy, but she held tight.
"Against his will, but yes." Her voice was filled with drowning sadness, and this alone made Harry stop fighting to get away. "He is being punished for my husband's failures. The Dark Lord knows Draco will not succeed. Please, you must help him. You are the only one he will listen to."
"Why do you think he'd listen to a word I said? He hates me!" Harry couldn't believe what he was hearing. "You're his mother, you should know that."
"Please, Harry," she spoke his name like a desperate prayer. "Please try."
He looked at her skeptically. "Why should I? Your son's never done anything for me." As far as he was concerned, Malfoy could share a cell along with his father in Azkaban and he wouldn't shed a tear.
She smiled ruefully at him. "There's more Slytherin in you than I realized." Harry bristled at what he perceived as a taunt, but remained silent, waiting for an answer to his question.
"Here," She produced a small vial from her cloak. Holding the tip of her wand to her temple she closed her eyes. After a moment, she pulled her wand away, a silvery wisp trailing from the end, which she carefully placed in the vial. After stoppering it, she held it out to him. "I thought you might need extra convincing. I trust you know what this is?"
Slowly, he reached out and took the vial from her open palm. Staring at it with wide eyes, he answered, "A memory."
"Memories, Harry… I hope they will help you make the right decision."
"I don't have a way to view them…" he muttered, still trying to come to terms with the fact that not only did Malfoy's mum want him to help her son, but that she had also willingly giving him some of her memories.
"Take them to Professor Snape, he will be expecting you."
"Snape?" he spat out the name of his least favorite teacher, the man who'd kicked him out of his office and refused to continue his Occlumency lessons. Harry knew that he was partly at fault, but that didn't stop him from placing some of the blame for Sirius' death on the greasy git.
Mrs. Malfoy smiled. "It's all in the memories, Harry." She leaned in close, whispering in his ear, "Draco's just a boy trying to protect those he loves." Just like you… She didn't need to finish the though, Harry understood her silent words.
Harry shivered, stepping back. She allowed him to, straightening herself and pulling the hood of her cloak back up, shrouding her face in shadow.
"Now, go. They're looking for you." Mrs. Malfoy gestured back the way he'd come. Walking past him, she turned down the same corner her son had minutes before, disappearing into the shadows.
Too thrown to do anything else, Harry slipped the vial into his pocket, making sure it was secure, then started back towards the twins' shop. As he walked, he replayed the odd encounter over and over.
Brushing his hand against the bottled memories inside his pocket, he'd never been more anxious to return to Hogwarts and see the Potions Master in his entire life.
000
The night air was hot, still warmed by the recently set summer sun, but that didn't stop the shiver that ran up her spine as the rocky island towered before her. Narcissa waited for the cramped wooden boat to dock, soaking ropes magically securing themselves to a rotting post. Stepping carefully out, she proceeded up a narrow path cut into the stone face. As she crested the cliff, her destination dawned in all its grotesque awe. She could make out the black, wraith like dementors circling the impregnable walls, and she raised her shields around her mind.
She approached the guard tower, holding her head aloft as she entered the foul smelling place. Behind a lopsided desk, a rather disgusting wizard sat, his muddy boots resting on his workspace, a half empty bottle of firewhiskey in his hand. His rat like eyes sized her up as she stepped up to him.
"What can I do for ya', ma'am?" He smiled, revealing a row of yellowing, crooked teeth that was missing more than one of its members.
She tried not to breath in his stench as she answered, "I would like to visit prisoner 182276."
"Let's see 'ere," the man muttered, wiping his nose noisily. Removing his feet, he bent over and produced a large, tattered record book from behind the desk. Plopping it down unceremoniously, a cloud of grime flying up into the stagnant air, he began flipping through the pages. "Ah, number 182276 yous says, aye?"
"That is correct." She didn't try to hide her disdain, but the man either was too inebriated to notice or had no self-respect left to care.
"And what relation to, eh…" He double-checked the book, squinting his eyes. "… Lucius Malfoy… would ya' be?"
She sniffed. "His wife."
He chuckled gleeful, but the effect was broken by a loud belch. "Donner! Got a visitor 'ere for Malfoy!"
A younger wizard appeared a moment later from a side door, dressed in standard Auror robes. Narcissa was relived to note that he, unlike the receptionist, looked well kept apart from his pale face and shadowed eyes, but that was to be expected of anyone who spent more than an hour or two on this forsaken rock.
The Auror, Donner, glanced her up and down. "Follow me," he said, and, without further ado, walked back out into the night.
With one last disgusted look, Narcissa left the guard tower, trailing the young man as he led her towards a pair of large, menacing black gates. Two more Aurors stood watch on either side. When they saw them approaching, they stepped aside, waving their wands in an intricate design over the gates, which slowly opened just enough to allow them entrance.
Once inside the prison, she did her best to ignore her surroundings, blocking out the fearful cries, turning a blind eye to the pitiful remains of human beings that were curled up in the dirty cells. She was here for one reason alone, and it was not to feel sorry for those who had earned a spot in this hellish place.
After a few minutes of winding turns and long cellblocks, Donner finally came to a stop beside a cell. Waving his wand over the latch, it clicked open, and he pulled the rusted iron bars back, giving her room to enter.
"Prisoner 182276. You have five minutes."
"Thank you," she told the Auror before taking a deep breath. Steeling herself, she calmly entered the cell, hearing Donner shut the bars behind her before his footsteps retreated down the hall.
"Who are you?" a broken whisper called to her from the far corner, and her eyes followed the sound. There, siting with his back pressed to the wall, his knees curled up to his chest, his pale hair matted and dirty, eyes wide with waking nightmares, was her husband. She could not stop the rush of sorrow that filled her heart at the sight. For all that this man was foolish and bigoted and cold, he was still her husband, and she loved him despite.
Walking forward slowly, not wanting to startle him, she gently knelt down beside him, brushing some grime from his face. "It's me, Narcissa."
He looked up at her then, eyes shining with hopeful tears. "Narcissa?"
"Yes, love, it's me."
A warbled sob bubbled forth from his mouth. He brought his rough hands up to cup her face, and she smiled gently. "Why… why are you here? Have you come t-to take me ho-home?"
"No," she told him, her heart aching as she watched his entire being crumble. "I've come to give you strength."
He turned his head way from her, staring blankly at the cold stonewall. "There is no such thing… n-not here."
"I've come to tell you that I will fix this, all of this." He didn't respond, so she pressed forth, her voice firm. "I have a plan, Lucius, a way to fix the mistakes of our past."
"No…" her husband murmured numbly. "No…"
She put her hand on his chin, forcing him to look at her. "Yes, Lucius. I swear to you our family will be together again… all of us." She choked on her words, her own emotions threatening to silence her. Swallowing hard, she pressed on. "I have a plan. You need only hold on until the time is right."
She heard the bars squeak open and knew Donner had returned for her. Leaning in, she brushed her lips against her husband's ear. "Be strong, love, and you will see your family soon," she whispered, then placed a chaste kiss on his cheek.
The last thing she saw as Donner led her away was her husband covering his face, muddy tears leaking out from in between his dirt covered fingers.
000
"What's that?"
Harry jumped at the voice, quickly shoving Mrs. Malfoy's memories into an old pair of socks he'd gotten from his aunt and uncle a few birthdays back. Throwing them into his trunk and snapping the lid closed, he turned to face Ginny. She was standing in the doorway to Ron's room, a steaming mug held in one hand, an eyebrow raised.
"Nothing," he said, throwing up what he hoped was a convincing smile. Ginny narrowed her eyes, but didn't press the issue, instead stepping all the way into the room.
She held out the hot drink. "Brought you some of mum's spiced tea."
"Thanks?" he said, a bit uncertainly.
"I noticed you haven't been sleeping all that well." Harry shifted nervously, but Ginny paid him no attention. "Mum's spiced tea always helps me sleep… I used it quite a lot summer before my second year."
"Oh," he said, getting to his feet and taking the offered tea. He rarely heard Ginny mention anything to do with her first year, and he knew it had probably taken a lot to even offer up that much to him. "Thanks, Gin. That was really thoughtful."
She rolled her eyes at him, plopping her self down on his bed. "So, you all packed for tomorrow? You know how mum hate's running late."
"Yeah, I'm ready to go back," he said, thoughts drifting to the unknown memories in his trunk. He was grateful that tomorrow was September 1st. He could barely even handle waiting that long to find out what Mrs. Malfoy had chosen to share with him.
"Any idea about who the new Defense Professor might be?"
"Not a clue, but anyone has to be better than Umbridge."
"Ugh, I hope I never have to see her toad-like face again."
Harry chuckled, although he couldn't agree more. He liked the way Ginny looked when she let her temper get to her. Sitting down next to her, he wondered, not for the first time, why he'd never really noticed the fiery girl before.
"Seriously, though," she was talking again, and he forced his wandering thoughts away from dangerous territory. Ginny, no matter how amazing and beautiful, was still his best mate's little sister. "Are you going to continue the DA?"
"Er, I hadn't really thought about it," he said, caught off guard.
"I think you should, and so do Ron and Hermione."
Harry leaned back, taking a sip of tea, gathering his thoughts. "They didn't say anything to me about it," he finally settled on. Honestly, he wasn't too keen on the idea of teaching again.
"Of course they have, Harry. You just haven't been listening." Harry thought it sounded suspiciously like she was scolding him.
"What are you getting at?" he asked, going on the defensive.
Ginny positioned herself so she was facing him. "I'm talking about how you've been ignoring your friends all summer, how you refuse to talk about that night or what happened afterward between you and Dumbledore."
"There's nothing to talk about, Ginny. That's why," he said, not meeting her eyes.
"Harry," her hand brushed his, making his stomach flip. "It's okay to talk about him. I know you miss him, but ignoring it, not letting yourself mourn, isn't going to make anything better."
"Just because I'm not bawling my eyes out doesn't mean I'm not grieving, Gin!" he seethed, rising to his feet, his control on his temper slipping. "And it's not like I could ignore what happened when I see Sirius falling through that damn veil every bloody time I close my eyes! That's why I haven't been sleeping, because all I can think about is how its all my fault, and how much I miss him, and how I wish I could take everything back. But I can't. Do you know what it's like to know everyone you love dies in the end… to know that you're always going to be alone?"
Sometime during his rant he'd thrown his mug of tea at the wall, the red liquid clashing horribly against the orange paint. His face was hot, and he could feel glassy tears in his eyes, but he refused to let them fall. Ginny had got up from the bed and was now standing directly in front of him. She placed one of her small hands along the side of his face. He meant her eyes, expecting to see pity or anger, but was surprised to find neither. Instead, her face held a weary resignation.
"Your not alone, Harry," she whispered, so close he could smell her honey scented breath. She leaned in, so near he could count every freckle that covered her nose.
"I'm sorry," he breathed, stepping back just before their lips met, his heart beating hard in his chest. "I can't."
For a second, he thought Ginny was going to protest, but she just turned around and moved towards the door. She paused, calling back to him without looking, "Good night, Harry." And then, she was gone.
He sat down heavily on his bed, the mattress groaning underneath him. He laid his head in his hands and shut his eyes, cursing Ginny for nearly kissing him, yet yearning for her to try it again. He groaned, knowing he had to get a handle on his growing feelings for the girl. If he were a normal teenage boy, he'd probably ask her to Hogsmeade and then have a good snog in a broom cupboard. But he wasn't normal by any means, and he couldn't afford the sort of distraction a relationship would bring, not to mention the fact that he'd be painting a huge target on her back for Voldemort and his Death Eaters.
It looked like he had another good reason for returning to Hogwarts besides Mrs. Malfoy's memories… it'd be much easier to avoid Ginny in the spacious castle than at the Burrow.
000
Well, there you go – half important, half filler. Not too happy with the ending, but that whole scene was giving me trouble. Hopefully the relationship between Harry Ginny doesn't seem to be moving too fast in this chapter. Don't worry, they're not going to just fall into each other's arms anytime soon.
Anyways, I don't expect romance to play too big of a role in this story, but Ginny's relationship with Harry will be important, so I won't be glossing over it entirely. And like I said earlier, Draco/Hermione won't be till much later in the story, as will Ron/Luna, the latter of which will really only be alluded to.
Anywhoo… enough of my ramblings you're probably not bothering to read! Next update is done, but won't be posted until the chapter after it is done, which I've started. Hopefully, it should be two or three days.
As always, please review!