Disclaimer: Please see prologue.
Chapter 20
All Things Must Pass.
It never seemed to matter how much warning they received, exams always seemed to catch the Hogwarts student body by surprise. Despite NEWTS being the most important exams of the Hogwarts curriculum, the night before exams started was the same as any other year. The South East Tower was filled with the stench of sweat and desperation from students who were hopelessly under-prepared for what was about to come.
Behind a large stack of books Lavender Brown was aching to bang her head on the table and do herself an injury rather than face the prospect of the following day. On the other side of the books, calmly facing the large open windows and with her feet comfortably resting on the widow sill, Hermione was uncharacteristically calm. She reclined in her comfortable chair and gazed out into the warm sky which had darkened slightly into twilight. It was her favourite time of the day, that strange time between day and night. Her calm exterior masked the true terror inside her. For the first time in her life she had no fear of exams, she knew what she needed to know, she was not fooling herself into thinking that she could possibly fail. What worried her had little to do with school work. For the first time in her life Hermione Granger was unconcerned with school grades. She could walk out of Hogwarts tomorrow without ever sitting exams and still she would be unconcerned by this part of her future. At that moment the worry that filled her was just how she was going to tell her parents about her child and imminent marriage. But this worry was masked effectively, a by-product of her latest favourite food. Potatoes, done any way, with plenty of butter and salt.
Today they were boiled new potatoes that Dobby had dug up out of the remains of Hagrid's vegetable garden. She smiled down at the bowl dreamily. The potatoes were swimming in butter and the salt was actually crystallizing over the top.
Never before had she craved salt as she did now, and it didn't seem to matter how often Lavender and Minerva told her not to pour it over everything, she could not seem to help herself. She had joked that had she not had her salt she doubted that she would have coped with the past month - what with Harry and Severus both being hauled off to Azkaban after being accused of murdering Archibald Semeuse. They had not stayed there long before they were cleared, but it had been a tense few days and both had looked decidedly haggard when they returned to the school. Arthur Weasley had flown into a panic about just what to do with Lucius Malfoy who had landed in Dumbledore's office in Harry's arms like some kind of unwanted growth. Lucius was here, hidden somewhere in the castle until Arthur Weasley and Cornelius Fudge could come to some kind of agreement about just what to do with the ex Death Eater. Hermione had seen him before he had been hidden away and had been surprised by her own reaction. It seemed that once she saw the attraction of the older man the rest just sort of fell into place. He was gaunt and wasted to be sure, but she could finally see just what everyone had raved about. Severus said that it was the Angel inside him rather than the man himself; Hermione hoped that was true.
"Err…Hermione?"
Hermione jumped, as though whoever had disturbed her could see straight into her brain and guess her thoughts and she felt herself blush a little at the idea of being caught thinking about Lucius Malfoy. She forced a smile to cover her embarrassment and looked expectantly at Susan Bones who was standing awkwardly by the side of her armchair. Hermione frowned a small frown. Susan had seemingly taken Lavender's vacated position in what Hermione had dubbed the "Bitch Brigade" some years before. She looked back at the rest of the girls who were watching Susan eagerly and Hermione felt herself shudder. "Hi…Susan…what's up?"
"We're friends, right?"
Hermione once again cast a glance at the other girls. They were notorious gossips. Hermione had been horrified when she had been given Lavender as a roommate for that very reason. She had lived in dread once Lavender had found out about Severus – but it seemed that Lavender had gladly relinquished her position in the Bitch Brigade and Susan had stepped into it with little thought at all. Hermione looked at her with a hearty dose of cynicism and said, "Yes, of course we're friends, Susan, why?"
"Well, you'd want me to tell you something…if I thought something was wrong…or I was worried about you…right?"
Hermione hesitated and wondered what was coming. "Are you worried about me, Susan?" she asked cautiously.
"Well yes…you see…" Susan shuffled from foot to foot and looked back to her friends who all appeared to be leaning forward waiting to hear something. "It's just that, well, I…we…have noticed that you have been…well…eating…a lot lately…"
Hermione's eyebrows shot up and disappeared beneath her fringe.
"And we've noticed that you have been putting on a little weight…"
A hot blush began to crawl up the back of Hermione's neck and she set the bowl of potatoes aside.
Lavender's face suddenly appeared over her stack of books. "Fuck Susan! What the hell are you on about?" She looked from the fast recoiling redhead to the two girls perched eagerly on the settee across the room. "It's none of you business what she eats! Don't you have exams to study for? Do you cows have nothing better to do with your time?"
"Lav, it's alright," Hermione said quietly. She couldn't quite bring herself to look at anyone and her hand found its way instinctively to the small mound of her belly and the soft bubbling feeling coming from within. She felt again that she just wanted the year to end so that she could stop hiding her pregnancy. She just wanted to get to the Fenn and settle into her life.
"It's not alright," Lavender insisted. "You haven't put on weight!"
Hermione gave her a warning glare. It was true that she had not put on much weight, but her breasts had swelled considerably and beneath her robes they made her look larger than she actually was.
Lavender was not in the mood to be put off however and she glared balefully at Susan. Susan in turn ran red to the roots of her hair and then turned and fled back to her friends. Lavender then turned her concern to Hermione who was shaking her head with a rueful smile.
"They're your friends," Hermione pointed out.
"They're doughy fucking cows," Lavender grumbled. She returned the bowl of potatoes back to Hermione's lap. "Don't listen to them, a couple of weeks and you won't have to see them again. Besides, the book says that you can eat what ever you want as long as it is healthy."
Hermione looked at the dubious concoction of butter and salt. "I think I'm going to burn that book," she said.
"Don't you dare, Madam Mimsby is the only guide we have."
Hermione rolled her eyes. Lavender had decided to become an encyclopedia of pregnancy and was constantly sprouting quotations from Madam Mimsby's authoritative guide "Bringing up Wizards." She was a little disconcerted that no one else seemed interested in reading it and finding out just what to expect. She had even contemplated going to Severus and asking him to read it as Hermione seemed to be hiding her head in the sand.
"Do you want help with Herbology?" Hermione asked, pointing her fork at the book in Lavender's hand.
"No, I'm fine, you just relax there." Lavender disappeared again, ducking behind her books and trying to absorb herself again in study.
Hermione returned to her potatoes and tried to find where she was with her thoughts. Lucius Malfoy. She shook her head to remove him, but that seemed only to conjure up just how she was going to tell her parents. She didn't know why she was so fearful of the task. Her parents had never shown her anything but support and her logic told her that this situation would prove no exception – but deep down there was a nagging doubt. She feared that they would be disappointed with her choices. She sighed and closed her eyes, trying to relax.
Hermione had spent most of her day down in the dungeons lying in bed and studying, and she was glad that she'd had the chance to do so. Severus was down in Hogsmeade with Minerva having dinner and Hermione was content to spend her evenings in the common room, but she found she could not study here; it was as though the desperation and fear of everyone else was contagious and she couldn't concentrate on her books. She liked sitting in her favourite chair staring out the window and found that Lavender was good company, even when she wasn't talking.
Harry was another matter. Harry had not been good company for anyone for the last four weeks. Hermione knew he was in the common room well before he said anything; she'd recognise the sound of his dragging feet anywhere.
Harry dumped half a dozen books onto the table beside Lavender's pile before dislodging Hermione's feet from the window sill and hoisting himself onto it. For the briefest of seconds Hermione panicked, thinking that he was about to hurl himself out into the abyss and she wondered just how fast she could get her wand out to slow his fall. But Harry did not jump; he sat down on the sill and faced her, looking utterly miserable.
"You really need to shave," Hermione told him and lifted her foot into his lap. He absently began to massage the foot, as though he didn't even know that he was doing the task. "Where have you been?" she asked, trying to drawn him out.
"The Library," Harry sniffled. He had been fighting a low grade cold for at least two weeks and Hermione wished he would go to Madam Pomfrey and get something for it. The fact was that he probably just needed some bed rest.
"All day?" Hermione asked, knowing he hadn't been in the library at all that day, or at least not during the actual day light hours.
"No," Harry admitted, "I spent most of the day sitting on Draco's doorstep hoping he'd let me in."
"Oh, Harry." Hermione set her potatoes aside again, realising that she was not going to get to eat them.
"I went to the hospital," Harry continued, "and he'd discharged himself, so I went to the manor and the House Elf wouldn't let me in."
"So you sat there?"
"Yep."
"Harry…" Hermione hesitated and had to set her face into a determined look before continuing, "Harry, if he doesn't want to see you…then perhaps you should leave him alone."
Harry dropped her foot. "What? Just like that? Just give up?"
"Well, no not give up as such, but maybe you need to give him time…"
"It's been a month!"
"Yes, and for most of that time he was in a coma at the hospital, he only woke up a week ago and he needs time to digest just what happened to him. He's been through hell, Harry."
Lavender appeared over her books again. "If I'd been kidnapped, raped and almost died, it would take me more than a month to get over it," she said.
"Well I wasn't talking to you," Harry spat.
"Don't take your guilt out on me…"
Harry rocked dangerously on the window sill and once again Hermione thought he would fall out.
"Lavender is right," Hermione said as calmly as she could, "you have to think about what Draco has been through."
"I know what he's been through," Harry said viciously, "I saw him, remember?"
"I know Harry, calm down, please. I'm not saying that you should give up on him; all I'm saying is that you need to be more sensitive to him. He's been through something so…awful. "
"He blames me," Harry said, "he blames me, he thinks that I abandoned him. I have to see him so I can tell him…"
"Harry, he probably doesn't know what he thinks at the moment, if you just give him time to work everything out in his head I sure he'll understand what happened."
"He hates me," Harry said miserably and leaned back dangerously against the window frame.
Hermione's heart skipped a beat. She wished he would get down off the sill. She said nothing. She knew that she could argue with him but she also knew that arguing with Harry when he was in a self pitying mood was useless. And Harry was in mood. He had gone to St Mungo's every day while Draco was asleep and had sat there beside him, and then one day he had arrived to find a medi-wizard at the door who would not let him pass. Draco had woken and he did to want to see Harry Potter.
"I don't believe he discharged himself," Harry muttered.
Hermione chewed her lip and looked away. He wasn't suicidal, she knew that, but he could fall out that window, he really could.
"You knew!" Harry said suddenly and he tried to catch her eye. "You knew he discharged himself, didn't you?"
Harry sighed and rubbed her belly. "He…yes, I knew. I'm not supposed to tell you this…"
"What? Why not? What aren't you supposed to tell me?"
"Calm down, Harry! He told Severus not to tell anyone."
"Well Snape obviously told you!"
"Severus tells me everything," Hermione said simply.
Harry looked slightly disgusted. "And you kept it from me?"
"Harry…oh for pity's sake could you please get down from there?"
Lavender stuck her wand over the top of her books and the windows slammed shut behind Harry's back and locked themselves securely.
"Thanks Lav," Hermione said with some relief.
"Not a problem."
Harry snorted impatiently. "Tell me what's going on with Draco!"
"There's no need to yell across the room," Hermione hissed.
Lavender pushed the books aside and glared at them both. "Look, perhaps you should go to Harry's room, or our room, or someone's room, but can you stop arguing about this here? I'm fairly certain that Draco doesn't want me to know about what's going on and I'm positive he doesn't need the rest of the year to know as well."
Hermione could scarce believe that Lavender was turning down some first rate gossip, but she could not deny that her roommate was right. She pushed herself up out of the arm chair and grabbed Harry's wrist so that she could drag him to his room. It wasn't until she had closed the door behind her that she thought that she may be in some trouble with him. Harry looked as though he would shake the information out of her if she didn't impart it soon, and for a moment she considered reminding him that she was pregnant.
But he did not shake her. Instead Harry sank onto his bed and looked thoroughly distressed. "Please," he said, "just tell me what's going on. I'm tired of being kept in the dark. I'll give him time, space, whatever he wants, but I need to know what is happening to him."
Hermione sat beside him and gently rubbed his back. "Alright, well…" She drew breath and smiled, hoping that she was doing the right thing. "That man, the Curator…"
"Archibald Semeuse," Harry said. He had memorised the name, hoping one day to find a ritual that would lock the bastards' soul in the very depths of hell.
"Archibald Semeuse," Hermione repeated and felt a little disgusted just by saying it, "when he had Draco he gave him a potion to paralyse him so that he couldn't struggle when he…" she flushed uncomfortably, "well, you know what he did. But this potion was old and Severus thinks that it was probably badly made and it has had some side effects."
"What kind of side effects?"
"I'm not sure about all of them, but I know he can't Apparate. Severus says that it is probably temporary."
"How do you know he can't Apparate?"
Hermione chewed hard on her lip. "Because he contacted Severus last night and asked him to go to the hospital to get him and take him home."
Harry's mouth fell open. "You knew since last night? You knew and you didn't tell me? You knew I'd go to the hospital!"
"I know, but by the time I got up you were already gone and Severus told me not to say anything! Severus stayed there last night. He came back this morning and he said that Draco was fine and that we shouldn't worry."
"Would he take me there?"
"Pardon?"
"Would Snape take me to see Draco?"
"Why…what difference would it make if Severus takes you?"
"He might see me if Snape was there."
"Harry, Severus won't take you anywhere."
"Why?"
"Because he doesn't like you." Hermione said bluntly.
"And there I was thinking we were bonding," Harry retorted sarcastically.
Hermione stared at him and a strange smile spread across her face.
"What?"
"Nothing. It's just that was a very Draco thing to say."
"I need him," Harry said urgently, "I need him to come back."
"I know," Hermione began to rub his back again, "and he will, I'm sure of it, but tread softly, Harry. If you push him you never know what will happen."
Harry was about to reply but was interrupted by a tiny mewing and Draco's little cat marched out from beneath the bed and stared up at them both. "I have to feed Miss Kitty," Harry murmured and reached down to pick the cat up.
"I guess you'll have to see him," Hermione pointed out mischievously.
"What do you mean?"
"Severus says Draco wants his cat back."
Harry coughed up a smile and tipped his head on to Hermione's shoulder. "I really fucked up, didn't I?"
Hermione nodded, "yes honey, you really fucked up."
"But he wants his cat back?"
"He wants his cat back," Hermione confirmed. When Harry stifled a yawn she gently stroked the side of his neck. "You need to sleep, Harry."
"I can't, I have to study."
"You're not going to take anything else in tonight, you're too tired. Just go to bed, you have to sleep."
Harry reluctantly agreed. He felt pretty rotten and he knew that he looked pretty rotten. And if Draco wanted Miss Kitty back, perhaps Harry could be the one to return her.
********
"I really don't understand that school." Molly Weasley scowled as she prepared two cake tins. "They teach you all this glorious magic and yet they neglect something as simple as basic home economics. Honestly, how do they expect you to live by yourselves? How you got on last summer I don't know…"
"You should have words with Dumbledore mum," Ron said, needling her a little as he swiped a finger through Pansy's cake batter. Upon putting it in his mouth however he instantly regretted it. Pansy's batter was decidedly thick and it didn't taste particularly good.
Pansy saw the look on his face and took in the vast difference between her batter and Molly's with some distress.
"I will have words with Dumbledore," Molly continued, deciding not to notice the grin on her sons face. "It's disgusting, just sending you out in the world with no clue about how to look after yourselves!"
"But we can kill a Dark Lord at ten paces," Ron pointed out.
Molly found herself smiling in spite of herself and then set about rousing on Pansy's batter to recover. "No Pansy, Dear, you need to have more of a flourish in your wand before you pour the batter…"
"And add more sugar," Ron suggested.
Molly glared at her son. "It wouldn't hurt you to learn this too Ronald Weasley. After we finish baking we are going to move on to meats – and if you're not careful I will only teach Pansy to prepare corned beef and you will be stuck with it for the rest of your life."
Ron quietened down. He and Pansy had been living on greasy fish and chips and Indian food and they had both become desperate for a home cooked meal. Pansy had been the one to suggest extending the olive branch and asking Molly for help. Molly had moved herself into Grimmauld Place three days before and Ron secretly believed that his mother was glad to be needed. She had become secluded at the Burrow, more so since his father had been voted Minister of Magic. Whilst Arthur had to wait until July to take office, there was plenty that needed to be done in preparation and Arthur had taken a flat in the city, one that Molly was loath to move into. She had taken to teaching her son and his girlfriend how to keep house like a duck takes to water.
And by the look of things, Ron and Pansy desperately needed help. Hermione wasn't going to be moving in during the summer. Two House Elves, both seemingly named Melville, had arrived to pack up Hermione's room and take everything to Wilshire. Molly had any number of things to say on that particular turn of events, but many of them did not need repeating. No one really knew what was going to happen with Harry. He had arrived two weeks before and had cried (quite literally) on Ron's shoulder. Pansy had been one of the few people that Draco had allowed in to see him and she confirmed that he was not happy, but there was some sense of romantic to her and she confided to Ron that she expected Draco and Harry to work it out. Which left Ron in an awkward position. If Harry was to live with Draco, what happened to Ron? How could he live in Harry's house without Harry? It was an issue he felt he had to address and Harry had agreed that it was best that Ron live at Grimmauld Place indefinitely, regardless of whether Harry was there or not. He then proceeded to question Ron mercilessly about why Pansy thought Draco would forgive him.
And so, if they were to live here by themselves they had to learn to look after themselves. Molly Weasley was just the person to teach them how, but she felt that she had been neglectful during Ron's upbringing. She had taught Ginny how to do everything and had left the boys to their own devices. She arrived at Grimmauld Place with a small library of books on household charms and cooking spells and she was eager to pass on her wealth of knowledge to her two more than willing students. It had probably been three of the most enjoyable days that she had spent with her youngest son.
Pansy was looking at her batter and prodding it dubiously with her wand. "I don't know if I should cook this," she said softly.
"It kinda looks like something Hagrid would have made rock cakes out of," Ron observed and then grimaced, "sorry…honey."
Pansy flushed and Molly inspected the bowl. "It isn't all that bad," Molly said gently, "for a first try…but perhaps we should throw this out and start again."
Pansy tried a miserable smile.
"Oh don't worry dear, the first cake I ever made caused my brother to lose a tooth. At least you are trying – unlike Ronald there."
Ron frowned.
"Your father is arranging for you to get a job at the Ministry," Molly told her son with a passing casualness that Ron found astounding.
"A job?" He asked, "At the Ministry? Isn't that nepotism?"
Molly, who had no idea what nepotism actually meant, simply continued as though he'd said nothing. "It isn't anything special, Ron. It's a position in his old department. It's a good place to start and it will help feed and clothe you both. Pansy has the money in her Gringotts vault, but you can't expect to live off that forever – and Draco Malfoy shouldn't have to keep the pair of you."
Pansy looked utterly confused. "I…I don't have any money in my Gringotts vault. Draco isn't paying us…"
Molly swore silently and turned to face them both. "Draco insists on sending money to Arthur and I for Pansy's upkeep. We won't accept it and Draco won't take it back so Arthur has been depositing the money into Pansy's vault. But as I said, you can't expect to live on the Malfoy payroll." Molly shook her head, "you want to work, don't you?"
"Of course I do!" Ron was still reeling from the news that Draco Malfoy had been sending money to his parents, "I just never expected to go into the Ministry. It's so…Percy."
Molly winced.
"Sorry mum."
"No, it's true, it is very like Percy." Molly placed a fresh bowl in front of Pansy. "But unlike Percy, you are not foolishly ambitious and as far as I know you are not ashamed of your family. You have responsibilities now, Ron. You are very lucky. You have this house to live in and friends who will never abandon you, but you cannot lean on them for your entire life! You chose to come here and to bring Pansy with you; you must take care of yourselves."
"I know. I know mum. I didn't mean to sound ungrateful, I'm not. I'll go and see dad tomorrow…to thank him."
Molly stopped and stepped back from the bench. She walked around Pansy to the place Ron had perched himself and kissed him firmly on the cheek. "I love you, you know that don't you?"
"Of course I do," Ron grinned, "I love you too."
"Those things…those things I said to you in that letter…"
"Don't mum, I don't want to talk about that."
"I didn't mean them…and at the Burrow…"
"Mum, it's alright. I know you didn't. It's over now, it's finished. Angelina is in prison and it's over."
"If George had his way she'd be out," Molly said and as she formed the words she found herself filled with dread. "He says she needs a hospital, not prison."
Ron had heard about George's opinion before. Fred had told him one day over lunch in Diagon Alley. He hadn't said anything about it, but now that the subject had been raised he decided to deal with it in the way he now realised his mother preferred, direct and to the point. "I think George is right," he said and waited for what was to come.
"What? By her own admission that…woman…killed Charlie! She almost killed you! She is clearly insane and needs to be kept away from the world!"
"Exactly. She's insane. Being stuck in Azkaban and being surrounded by Dementors can't be helping that. She needs help mum."
Molly shook her head in disgust. "I think it's you and George who need help."
"What does dad think?"
Molly paused. "Your father…" she sighed, "your father is trying to keep an open mind. But you have to realise, he lost one son to this girl, he almost lost another…"
Ron nodded. He couldn't really think of anything more to say about Angelina. Part of him wanted to save her and yet another wanted her to sink so deep into the depths of Azkaban that she would never claw her way out. He looked to Pansy who was getting herself a drink. It was an odd twist that meant he owed Angelina for Pansy.
Molly seemed to snap back to herself, shaking the momentary melancholy off as quickly as she could. "Look, why don't I just cook this and we can get back to the lessons tomorrow?"
Pansy came back to the table looking relieved, more so when Molly gave her an affectionate hug.
"I asked Fred and George to come for dinner," Molly continued, "they'll be here soon."
"Fred's coming here?" Ron asked, swiping his finger through his mothers' cake batter.
"I know he's in everyone's bad books at the moment, but he is your brother, Ron."
"I know, I just don't know how Harry would feel about him being in his house."
"Does Harry hate Fred?" Pansy asked.
"No…I don't think so," Ron grinned helplessly, "but I know Fred's not one of his favourite people at the moment."
"Do you want me to tell them not to come?" Molly asked.
"No, it's fine. What are we having?"
"Nothing fancy, just chops and vegetables and we can have the cake for dessert."
"I can help," Pansy said brightly, "I can help with dinner."
Molly and Ron stared at her hopeful face and smiled in spite of their doubts. She had to learn some time.
*********
The black carriage that trundled into the underground Hogwarts stables was simple in design with no real ornaments, but it exuded wealth none the less. Carriages were used almost exclusively by pure blood wizards. They loaned a certain elegance that a Portkey could not provide and until the Ministry lifted its ban on flying carpets they were the most convenient mode of transport for the wealthy wizard family with children too young to Apparate. The craftsmanship of the carriage was impeccable. The interior was bedecked in dark polished leather, doted with heavy studs and overstuffed to make it comfortable.
The wizard who emerged from the interior was as impeccable as his ride. He was tall and slender; his robes were light weight wool that moved almost fluidly with each turn of his body. He wore no Muggle attire and he did not bother with a hood. The robes were high collared and conservative, robes timeless to his kind and made him look almost ghostlike. His face was flawless, slightly too pointed and yet he was exactly what everyone expected him to be. Beautiful still. His grey eyes were clear and cold, his blonde hair seemed to glow in the gloom. Beneath the calm exterior Draco Malfoy was wondering why he had bothered coming back. He stood perfectly still while Non secured the carriage and when the House Elf had finished his task, Draco walked towards the stairs with the little creature in tow.
Snape was waiting for him and he knew that he would be. Neither bothered with so much as a perfunctory nod. Draco simply reached the top of the stairs and continued his pace down the hall; Snape fell in step beside him and they walked in silence for a while before Draco felt any need to speak.
"Is my father well?" Draco asked at last. More from a sense of obligation than any real desire to know about his father's welfare. He was sure that Lucius had been well looked after. They were all fascinated by him, a wizard who had cheated the Dementors kiss. It was a shame Lucius had not had the same kind of forethought before following Voldemort.
"He's fine," Snape replied, "better now that he knows you are well."
Draco would dispute the idea that he was well. "Can he walk yet?"
"He's getting there."
"He'd get better faster if he was at home."
"That's impossible and you know it."
Draco ground his teeth and hardened his jaw. "I don't see why he can't come home. He has no powers now – thanks to you. He can't hurt anyone."
"The Ministry are not going to let him just pack up and go home, they want to see him punished." Snape stopped; he had been through this too many times in the space of a day. Draco was just unwilling to accept it. Lucius himself was far more reasonable. He was quite willing to go to Azkaban, especially since Arthur Weasley would be removing the Dementors in a matter of weeks. The problem was that Arthur Weasley was not deciding on his punishment. Cornelius Fudge was hurriedly making judgements in his final week of power, each one aimed at the people he considered instrumental in his fall. This one was directed at Weasley himself. Lucius Malfoy was being sent in to exile for ten years. There was no indication as to who would be guarding him but Snape was no fool. Neither were Weasley or Lucius. Fudge did not want Lucius Malfoy alive and for some reason he thought it was a subject close to Weasley's heart; Snape was willing to bet that Lucius would arrive at wherever Fudge was sending him to find Alastor Moody waiting at the door.
Draco knew this too. He picked at a piece of lint on his sleeve with some disdain before saying; "Don't you think he's been punished? Don't you think eight months as Archibald Semeuse's own private dolly was a punishment?"
"You know I do."
"Then why didn't you try harder?"
"I am not going to argue with you about this, Draco. Your father made his own choices…"
"Oh?" Draco stopped and swung around to confront his godfather. "He chose to be in this exhibition? He chose to be fucked over and over again by a maniac who thought they were meant to be together forever?"
"No, but he did choose to follow Voldemort, he did choose to be an arrogant prick who decided that he and his friends were the only ones worthy enough to be gifted and he was blind enough not to realise that excluding all but pure bloods from our gene pool was going to make for a very extinct race of magical people! He chose to be wilfully ignorant and not to use that magnificent brain of his to actually think about the future or consider the facts of our kind and because of these decisions he ended up in this situation, so don't you stand there and tell me that I should have tried harder! He should never have been so fucking stupid!"
For a moment Snape feared that Draco Malfoy was about to start crying and the very prospect filled him with dread. Dealing with an emotional and pregnant Hermione was forgivable; dealing with a blubbing godson was not part of his plan this evening. He need not have worried. Draco's grey eyes narrowed spitefully and the boy almost growled. "You don't think I know all of those things?" he asked in a voice so cold it was chilling, "I know exactly what my father did and just how pathetically stupid he was. If I had him at home I'd lock him in the attic and never let the miserable Squib come down the stairs. It was his choices that did this to me, I won't ever forget that, so don't fret Uncle Severus, I won't accuse you of laziness again."
The change in him astounded Snape. One moment he was fighting for the freedom of his father and the next he was as icy as an arctic wind.
"We are concerned about this exile however," Snape admitted, testing Draco a little. "Fudge has decided that this would be a good way to get back at Arthur Weasley, we are afraid that he'll put Moody in charge of your father's care."
"Well, let us hope that he makes a quick job of it," Draco said briskly as he quickened his pace, "and I'll get my inheritance that little bit faster."
Snape didn't move for a moment, stayed into stillness by the comment and he watched as Draco strode off into the shadows of the corridor. A dark frown crossed his face and slowly he followed his godson into the castle.
*******
"You look good."
Draco scowled at the statement and stared at his father. Lucius looked good too; it seemed almost sinful that in the space of a few short weeks his father could be walking around with a body that was filling out rapidly. Madam Pomfrey's muscle booster certainly worked miracles.
"Thank you," Lucius said hesitantly, "for your blood. As you can see, it worked wonders."
"Well, I was unconscious so I didn't have much say in the matter."
Lucius sighed and pressed on. "Severus' young lady actually brewed the potion, she's very talented."
"She's a Mudblood. Did you know that?"
"I…"
"Do you want the potion in you now? Now that you know she's a Mudblood?"
"I am very grateful for her talents," Lucius said diplomatically.
"If you had your way, she'd have been dead and then where would you be?"
Lucius' gaze shifted from his son to Severus and he smiled tightly. Severus raised an eyebrow and sat himself in a chair by the window, fairly eager to ignore the exchange going on in front of him.
"How do you feel?" Lucius asked. He did not make a move towards his son, as he was fairly certain that if he did he would be repelled quickly. He was not as strong as he looked and his own walking was inhibited by the use of a cane. He was feeling the effects of his loss of magic keenly; it was like having a low grade fever, and he felt terribly cold. He wanted to hold his son but his son was evidently not interested in being held.
"How do you think I feel?" Draco asked coldly. He hadn't moved out of the doorway and Non had not moved either, although the little elf was elated to see Lucius up and about.
"I would think that you feel abused and betrayed. I also think you are hating me, but I don't think it would take much intuition to see that."
"And why would I hate you?"
"Because you blame me for what he did to you," Lucius said, "and perhaps you are justified. But I would never have wanted that for you, I wanted to protect you...but I couldn't. I'm so sorry for that."
"Yes, well," Draco said briskly as he walked through the room to the window, "we can add that to the manifold other things you failed to do." He looked out of the window and could see the darkening Quidditch pitch below. No one was playing out there. The Quidditch cup had already been won, although by what house, Draco had no idea. He half expected to see Harry flying around as he had when he was younger, but on the night before exams started he knew where Harry Potter would be – or at least where he should be. Studying in the common room. He certainly should not have spent the day sitting on Draco Malfoy's doorstep, which he had and Draco knew it. Leaving the house had proved difficult as he had to wait for Harry to give up and leave.
And of course Harry had given up eventually, although Draco could hardly blame him for that.
Harry was another problem that Draco would have to face, but there was plenty of time for that tomorrow.
"Are you staying for exams?" Lucius asked.
"Yes."
"Good, it would behove you to do well."
Draco turned to him and sneered. "Don't come over all fatherly on me now, Lucius, I think we can dispense with it."
"Regardless of your current mood, Draco, I am still your father and I will show some concern over your choices."
"Choices? My choices? What about your choices and their results? I think uncle Severus summed them up pretty well in the corridor. What say you Uncle Severus, may I repeat the whole 'Lucius' choices' speech or will you fill him in later?"
"Stop it, Draco," Severus said again. He was tired of this. He wanted nothing more than to go to bed. He was supposed to be in Hogsmeade with Minerva who was thoroughly disgruntled with the sudden change of plan and had to take Dumbledore to dinner instead. Inside the darkness of his mind he even considered sending Hermione to stay in her room with Lavender to sleep so that he could be alone for the first time in weeks.
Lucius ignored them both and continued on with speaking to his son. If he was to die – and he had an idea that he probably would – he had every intention now in ensuring Draco was well established for the future. "I have arranged with Arthur Weasley to have your inheritance passed on to you now. The Manor and the family fortune are yours."
This took Draco by surprise, he had always been sure that the Malfoy fortune would have to be prised from Lucius' dead hands.
"I want you to be happy, Draco."
"Well, you should have thought of that before you went running off to start a war, shouldn't you?"
"This hatred is a recent thing, Draco. It's because you've been hurt in a way that you can't understand. It is more than a physical pain or sickness. It is something that is all consuming and you have no control over it. You can't block it out and you can't make it go away. The glorious thing about our medicines is that we can cure almost any physical malady…but our minds are as fragile as any Muggles and you feel the pain there. That is why you are hating everyone around you. Semeuse is dead and so you have to take it out on everyone who loves you. I understand that. I will always understand that."
"Why…" Draco swallowed hard and blinked a few times to clear his eyes as he looked out the window and the Quidditch pitch blurred into a salty haze. "Why couldn't they just make me forget?"
"Because to do so can damage you mind beyond repair. You'll end up like the Longbottom boy, forgetful and bumbling. You couldn't stand that, could you?"
"It would be better than this," Draco rasped. He strode back to the door, not raising his face to his father.
"It will pass, Draco. Like any pain, it will diminish."
"And I'll forget it?" Draco sneered harshly.
"No, you'll never forget it. But you survived, Draco, and you must go on and live your life. You can hate me to the day you die if it helps, Draco, but you must learn to live your life with some kind of peace."
"And how do you suggest I accomplish that?"
"You could draw strength from the people who love you."
"How very herbal of you father," Draco drawled.
"What about Harry?" Lucius asked, pressing on in the way that he always did where Draco was concerned.
"What about him?" Draco bit out, glad of the moment to recover himself. "Harry made his choice."
"And what choice was that?" Lucius asked, "He slipped up, he kissed the wrong person at the wrong time. Yes, he told me all about what happened. I've had quite a chat with young Mr. Potter. It never meant anything to him; he was coming home to you."
"Then it was too little too late."
"He came for you, Draco."
Draco scowled and made for the door. He'd heard enough. He wanted to see his father one last time and now he had done so. There was nothing left to do but go and do what everyone else had no doubt done that evening – study.
Lucius knew Draco was leaving; he didn't try to stop him. "Goodbye, Draco."
Draco didn't answer. He left the room without a backward glance.
*******
"I ate too much," Pansy groaned as she climbed into bed. She had showered and her face was pink from being scrubbed. She smelled like a combination of toothpaste and lye soap, her slightly damp hair was starting to curl a little as it dried. "I feel really heavy and bloated."
"You don't look heavy and bloated," Ron said dutifully. He was feeling much the same way. One thing he could say for his mother, she loved to over feed, especially when she felt that she owed someone something. Not that Ron thought Molly particularly owed him anything.
He looked at the window and wished he could open it. The summer was getting hot at night and the room had a habit of becoming stuffy, but it was Sunday night and all the garbage in the street gave off a terrible smell which was only exacerbated by the heat. He slid into bed beside her and pulled the light coverings over them both.
He extinguished the lights and found her mouth almost immediately. It seemed to have become a natural progression for them both now; climb into bed and start kissing. They had not made love yet, but kissing they had down to a fine art. He found her wet, lush and willing as she moved beneath him. Her body was always so full of promise, the untold secrets that she hid during the day opened up for him at night as his hands slid over the light cotton of her nightgown. They had not perfected speaking in bed, they never seemed to talk there, kissing seemed so much more important when they were alone and so close.
He lapped at her mouth, enjoying the taste of toothpaste and saliva mingling with the softness of her lips and tongue. His hand slid over her soft breast and wonderfully hard nipple and he moaned.
"You feel incredible," he whispered huskily.
"I…" she moaned softly as Ron slid between her legs and she felt his erection press hard into her thigh.
"We should stop," he panted. He knew that to continue would take him beyond simply wanting her and into needing her. He had to stop while he was still able.
"We don't have to," she whispered and a tremble ran through her frame, "we don't have to stop."
He pulled back from her and tried to see her face in the dark. "If I don't stop I might do something you don't want," he said slowly, ashamed to admit that he might not be able to control himself.
"I…I want you," she said shyly, "I want to…make love to you."
Ron felt his stomach roll. His only real sexual experience had been with Angelina, and he would hardly call that love making. It had bordered on abuse. And he feared for what it would be like for Pansy. What if he hurt her? What if he was no better than Angelina? Doubts that had plagued him for weeks suddenly surfaced with tremendous force, but she reached over to the side table and her wand and with a whisper hundreds of tiny tea lights lit up around the room and she lay back, resting her head on his arm.
"I want this," she told him gently, "I want to feel what it's like to have someone I love show me what it's like…and I think you want that too…don't you?"
By way of response he kissed her, stroking her breasts again through the fabric of her nightgown and then he began unbuttoning the front so that he could open it out and reveal her and he could stroke every inch of her smooth skin. Pansy smiled up at him and then reached for his hand to kiss it, running her tongue over his palms and finger and then he placed it more firmly on her breasts while she used her own hands to explore the hardness of his chest. He moved so that he could pull his pyjama shirt over his head and wriggle out of his pants. She watched as his body was revealed to her, knowing that she had waited for this moment and she wanted to enjoy every feeling and appreciate the excitement that he created inside her.
The touch of their skin together brought their touching closer to lovemaking than they had ever been before. Their nakedness was now as thrilling as their first kisses had been and the feeling of her creamy soft skin pressed against his firmness was bringing him closer to the edge. This naked coupling represented an achievement for both of them; it signified a loss of fear and they relished the differences in the feel of their bodies.
Ron longed to enter Pansy but he fought his body's pull to her, but it was becoming harder to do. As they moved towards each other it was becoming harder and harder to pull away again. They kept their eyes fixed on each others faces, both unable to believe how close they were to each other nor how good it felt to let their hands wander. When finally they could move their gaze they both found themselves looking at Ron's hard penis pointing its swollen head into the dark hair that grew lush between her legs.
Stroking Pansy's pale breasts, Ron leaned forward and kissed each pink nipple, sucking at them, relishing each with his tongue and his hand moved down her stomach and with tentative fingers he found the wet warmth that she was offering him.
Pansy lay back as he moved then, she felt her breath catch as he kissed his way down her body, his tongue darting out to taste her flesh, his hands caressing the softness of her belly. He bent his face between her legs then, flicking his tongue into the wetness, probing the moist opening of her vagina to taste her and then using his fingers to open her further and lap deeper inside. His fingers brushed gently over the hard pearl of her clitoris and she gasped at the intimacy of it, and when the excitement grew too much she pulled him back up to her, holding on to his hard shoulders and telling him that she loved him in a voice that was close to delirium.
She slithered from his gasp, wanting to taste him as he had tasted her. She longed to explore him and she covered him with kisses, starting at his soft mouth and progressing over his slightly stubbled chin and down his throat. His chest was beaded with clean sweat and she nipped at his small nipples, fascinated at how they hardened so very like her own. He sat back on his haunches and allowed her this exploration, knowing that she had to do this, that she needed to discover the man she was with and know what she was taking into her body.
She crouched down between his legs and held his hard penis in her hands, and looked up at him. "You're bigger than I thought you'd be," she said quietly.
"It's alright," he said, "we can take this as slow as you want."
She smiled and returned her attentions to the penis in her hands. She bent her head down to trace the underside of it with her tongue, working towards the head which she hesitantly wet with her mouth. She heard Ron groan as she took as much of it into her mouth as she could, being careful of her teeth, knowing that she had to take care with him. She pulled her mouth back and once again traced her tongue down the length of him, wanting now to taste the soft bag of testicles that hung below.
He knew that he couldn't hold this and he raised her gently, telling her that she had to stop doing that if she didn't want him to come so fast. She lay back in the bed and drew him down to her, telling him to be gentle, begging him not to hurt her.
Ron held her tightly to his chest and promised her that he would never harm her and that she was safe with him. She believed him and she gasped as she opened for him. Lubricated by her saliva and excitement, Ron made the first move to inch himself inside her, showing her that if they worked slowly she could accommodate his size inside her body.
In his mind he was wishing that it was he who had taken her virginity and not three men who did not know her and did not care, but now as she held him between her legs and was gasping at her first sexual feelings, he knew that it no longer mattered. He was the first man to love her, if he had his way he would be the last man to ever love her and that was all that was important. He was astonished at the feelings it created, loving someone and having them love you in return and when he looked at her she laughed in amazement, mesmerized by the way fate had brought them together in such a wonderful and perfect way.
*******
Harry's eyes opened and closed and he groaned. There was a weight, heavy and leaden, in the very pit of his belly. He knew what it was. Miss Kitty, curled up and fast asleep. He couldn't believe such a small thing could be so heavy, but she was pressing down hard on his bladder and his entire body felt strangely sore. Probably the result of sleeping in one position for far too long.
And his bladder, where she was sleeping, felt horribly full.
He groaned again and tried to move the cat. She woke, stood on his stomach and stretched, almost causing him to wet himself as her back feet pressed down hard into his groin.
"Shit! Move!" He pushed the cat off him and she hissed as he sat up. He had no idea what time it was but he decided that it must be late. He felt as though he had been asleep fort a long time, and there was no light creeping into his room from under the door and that was a sure sign that the common room was empty and that everyone had retired to bed – to try and get some sleep before exams started the next day.
He wished he was still sleeping. He'd had precious little of it since that night at the Museum and he was sure that it was sheer exhaustion that had allowed him whatever he had just managed to get.
He needed to pee and he swung his legs out of the bed – almost treading on Miss Kitty – and headed out his bedroom door.
As he had predicted, the common room was dark and empty. There was a chill in the air that rooms tended to get when devoid of people for a period of time so he figured that it must be very late. Harry padded across the room to the bathroom and yawned as he walked automatically to the trough to relieve himself.
He was wearing an old pair of cotton pyjama bottoms, Dudley's hand me downs that had a hole in the bottom and whose elastic was about to give in, but Harry didn't really care about that – he was still half asleep, all he could think about was getting back to bed. He finished peeing and shoved his cock back into his pants without shaking particularly well. He didn't rightly care about the drops of urine that soaked the front of his pants, they would dry by morning, he didn't even think about it.
He left the bathroom and started back across the common room, just in time to see Miss Kitty make a break from his room and streak across the room towards the corridor that lead to her old home.
Draco's bedroom.
"Fuck!" Miss Kitty!" Harry hissed in a harsh whisper, "Come back! Puss Puss Puss!"
Miss Kitty ignored him and the little tabby turned into the darkness of the short corridor, her skinny little tail in the air and Harry was almost certain that she was mooning him in defiance.
"Miss Kitty!" Harry's sharp whisper became strained, "come back here you stupid cat, he's not down there!"
But still she did not appear and Harry was forced to go down the corridor after her. He hadn't been in Draco's room since he had gone to get Miss Kitty. It hurt to be in there, looking at all of Draco's things. Harry could even smell Draco there. He could not look at the bed without remembering the nights he had spent there, warm in Draco's arms or wrapped around his body. He did not want to go down there now to chase the little cat, but he also knew that he would get no more sleep if Miss Kitty was running around the common room and making a nuisance of herself.
"Miss Kitty! Come here…puss puss puss! Come here! I don't want to be chasing you all over the fucking castle!"
The corridor was dark and he didn't have his wand (he could almost hear Alastor Moody screaming "constant vigilance!" in his ear) and he tried a lumos charm anyway. He was surprised when a dim light illuminated the narrow hall. He almost smiled, except that Miss Kitty was leaping at the door latch like a crazy animal and on the third attempt she caught it and the door opened – just a crack.
"Oh Miss Kitty, you fucking pain in the fucking arse, come back here!"
Once again Miss Kitty performed her tail in the air mooning action and slinked inside.
Shit.
Harry rolled his eyes and almost stamped his foot in frustration. He followed her.
"Miss Kitty," he wasn't bothering to whisper now, there was no one to wake up down here, "he's not here you stupid fucking cat…"
The balcony door was open. Oh Gods, don't let her go over the balcony.
"Miss Kitty…come here puss."
He stepped into the doorway of the balcony and hoped that he could grab the cat before she jumped.
He stopped and his breath caught. Draco turned around to face him, blowing smoke from the opium cigarette he was smoking..
Harry's mouth worked open and closed and he was suddenly aware of what he looked like in Dudley's old pyjama pants with piss all over the front. He wished that he had at least washed his hands. He tried to speak but found he couldn't. He didn't know what to say.
"What's wrong Potter? My "stupid fucking cat" got your tongue?"
"You…you're here."
Draco glared at him as though it was patently obvious while Miss Kitty rubbed herself happily around his ankles.
"I didn't think you were here. You went home…you were sick…"
"There are exams to be sat, Potter. What did you think I would do, slink home and never come back?"
"I…you came for exams?"
"I just said that didn't I?"
Harry felt his body give way; he wanted to throw himself on Draco and hug him with relief. "How are you? Are you alright?"
"I'm fine."
Harry looked at him, trying to see through the cold tone to see what he was feeling. He wanted to touch him, hold him and love him. In the moonlight he seemed to shine. He was so pale, his hair almost glowed. He was wearing robes, good ones, with a high neck. His skin was as clear as it ever was and in the grey eyes Harry thought he could see something other than the coldness Draco was showing him.
"I missed you," Harry whispered.
Draco said nothing.
"What you saw," Harry said desperately, "what you saw that night…it wasn't real…I was coming back, but Fred…he wouldn't let me go…" He looked at Draco's impassive face, "that kiss was nothing…it meant nothing. I only did it so I could come back to you. I didn't know you were there…"
"It doesn't matter," Draco said emotionlessly as he flicked his cigarette over the balcony, "you can do whatever you want."
"I'm so sorry…baby, I'm so sorry."
"It doesn't matter," Draco said again.
"I love you."
Draco pushed hard past him and went into his room to light the gas lamps.
"I went to your house…you…the House Elf wouldn't let me in."
"Remind me to commend Rosie for her fortitude."
Harry looked at him, wondering if the façade would crack at all. "I wanted to talk to you. I want to explain."
"Explain what? That you were coming back, Fred Weasley wouldn't let you leave, you had to kiss him, it meant nothing?" Draco yawned as though he was bored.
"I'm so sorry."
"Good," Draco snapped. He picked up a leather bound box from the floor beside his bag and then placed it on the bed. Inside he had several bottles of what looked to Harry like alcohol and Harry looked at them, utterly incredulous. He had just gotten out of the hospital and he was going to get drunk? What time was it?
"Do you think you really need that?" Harry asked, knowing that he probably shouldn't say anything.
Draco laughed bitterly. "What do you think it is?" he asked with a sneer, "Whisky? Gin? A bit of nettle wine to calm my nerves? Oh no, Potter, these are medicines. Lovely bottles of medicines to add to my ever growing list of shit that I need to keep myself going on a daily basis. Aren't they pretty? This purple one here stops me from having fits brought on by the out of date potion that Mr. Semeuse poured down my throat. And this brown one here is very nice, it tastes a little like distilled sweat, but it knits muscle and tissue back together – that would be the muscles and tissues in my arse hole, in case you're wondering. Now this is Navitas, you know that one, but the clear one here is my personal favourite, this builds my immune system back up so that I don't drop dead on you all, but one of the side effects is that I can't do magic properly so I can't Apparate or do anything like that just in case I accidentally turn myself inside out. This pretty red one here is supposed to help me sleep, but all it does is make me sick so when I take it I just throw the whole lot up and then I have to start again. Would you like me to continue?"
"I am so sorry, Draco."
"Good!" Draco said again, but he was sounding a little hysterical now, "Good, be sorry, I'm hoping you are sorry until you fucking die, but I don't want to have to look at you while you're feeling it, so fuck off and leave me alone!"
"Draco…"
"Leave me alone!"
Harry looked at him and wanted to cry. Draco was breathing heavy and he started removing the stoppers from his many bottles. Harry watched him, not wanting to leave him there alone but knowing Draco wouldn't take his medicines in front of him.
"I'm sorry, Draco."
Draco didn't answer; he seemed intent on controlling his breathing.
Harry gave him one last look. He knew that he wouldn't sleep again that night, but he knew he had to leave the room. He turned away and left Draco alone in the room, by the time he reached the common room his cheeks were wet, but he didn't turn back. He went back to bed to wait out the rest of the night.
*********
Please go to part 2