The idea of having restraining spells used against him, kept Harry calm. He had to keep his head. But he wanted them to know he hadn't meant to trigger that kind of evidence, much less show it to a crowd of innocent people.
"I have no idea what just happened. I know I caused it, but I didn't plan on all of that. I've never pulled that much information from someone else before. I don't know what's going on. Please!"
It was an appeal to be handled with respect, and not like a criminal. An aged and throaty voice from behind said, "Let him go."
Harry, and all four of his escorts, turned to see the Admiral trailing them. A team of official-looking people walked a pace behind him.
"Mr. Potter, sorry for the misunderstanding. You haven't done anything wrong. We're trying to get you out of harm's way. I must ask that you leave with us, portkey to another location. You're not under arrest, but we need as much information from your wand, and your mind, as possible."
"My daughter..."
"Is quite safe. Ms. Thella Majorie has also been removed from the premises. When our agents are finished with arrests and have swept the area, you'll both be back before midnight. The ladies are with a secure escort at the moment, just like you. You have my word."
Words meant nothing, when panic blossomed in Harry's chest the way that it did. Everything was happening too fast to trust anything. "What is this, what just happened?"
"I'll explain what I can. We need to move fast if you want to get back to your daughter as quickly as possible."
He placed a giant and gentle hand on Harry's shoulder. "Portkey's this way."
The instant transportation was a nasty one. Harry didn't know if it was because he hadn't been feeling well, or if it had something to do with the erratic state of his mind, but he woke up with a foul-smelling tincture being held under his nose. It was a smell so painful, that his brain recoiled, jerking him conscious.
When his vision cleared from watering eyes, this is what he saw. White floor, white room, white table, white chairs. Grey steel door exit. The kind with the tiny square pane of glass with lines crisscrossing inside the glass.
People in dark suits surrounded him and appeared to wait on his recovery. Someone gave him water and helped him into a chair. By the time his head cleared and his stomach eased up, there were only four people in the room. Himself, the Admiral, and two guards stationed at the door. His wand lay on the table beside him.
"Where am I?"
"A secret facility in North America."
He nodded. He understood the other's clipped words, and resounding silence, to mean that he was not going to be privileged with more information than that. International travel. Maybe that's why the jump was so harsh on his body. Before he had time to question his safety, or his return, the Admiral began explaining things.
"We wanted you to withhold train information from the civilian populace. We examined your memories, but we didn't know if something we've overlooked held any advantage to any of your audience members. We didn't want to give away evidence. So when you pulled so much potential evidence from that woman's mind, we are now forced to rethink our strategy."
"Who was that, uh, woman?"
"You and I both know that's no woman. And I can't reveal classified information. However, I want to pose a question to you that could get you all the information you want. In fact, if you cooperate with me, you'll have access to banks of resources. We know that you're looking for something. Someone."
The statement activated Harry's poker face. He sat up, folded his arms, then uncrossed them, suspecting it was a giveaway.
"Don't worry, Mr. Potter. Your former professor is in hiding because he wants to be. Not because he's a criminal. His name was sufficiently cleared during the trials and his Identity Indenturement is perfectly legal, to protect his life. Those were pretty high stakes in the war and more lives were saved than destroyed by his decisions. Severus Snape deserves his anonymity. His privacy. It's no different than the muggle version of a witness protection program and assuming a new identity."
Harry's mouth fell open. "You're admitting it. He's alive. Isn't that classified information?"
"It is. Since the day you found new evidence linking this wizard to saving your life, and withheld it, we toyed with letting you in on this much. I'm only confirming what you've figured out for yourself. We know this information is valuable to you, and it is being used to barter your assistance in an investigation. Under the laws of Identity Indenturement, you can be prosecuted for revealing what I am telling you in complete confidence, and you are being trusted to tell no one. Think of it as a gift and respect his new identity. He did not go through the legality of muggle channels, but presented his case in magical covenants. His magic is of a quality that can protect its own integrity."
"What does that mean?"
"It means, we don't know how to find him. We can only trace his apparation signature so far, and if he does it multiple times in succession, we can't trace him at all. He wrote his own privacy spells around his physical person, spells the CIUM and your Ministry have never even heard of. The spells keep him invisible, and as long as he isn't breaking any laws, we have no reason to breech any blood magic he has put into place around himself."
Should Harry say something about Snape's tampering with wreckage evidence? "Am I in trouble for keeping evidence to myself?"
"It's not a mark against you. Just be aware that you cannot store undocumented human remains at Gringotts without alerting some inquiry. And it only confirmed for us that you were determined to hunt down answers, just as much as we were. All we had to do was follow you."
The Admiral admitted, "You are known for successfully confronting your enemies. Since infancy. Your magic is studied. We had a feeling that all we had to do was follow you, and you would lead us to the people responsible for this atrocity. Your magic has a characteristic. It wants justice. It will fight even when you are too tired to do so. We watched you comb the bogs and moors in Dungarven, looking for evidence that didn't fit with our story. You led us to more wreckage. Real wreckage, not doctored to look authentic."
So, was Snape in trouble for tampering with a crime scene? "Do you know who doctored the wreckage and saved those survivors?"
"Do you?"
He had to be careful. Just because they knew Snape was alive, didn't mean they knew about his involvement in the wreckage. "That's what I want to find out."
"Is that why you kept the fragment of arm? It was evidence that needed to be turned in."
Fucking goblins. Had they tested it? Had they uncovered who it belonged to, and the Admiral was just sizing Harry up to test his trustworthiness? The goblins had encouraged him to believe that Snape's death cover up was illegal, and had tricked him out of his blood to get information.
"Whoever saved those people, is not the criminal you're looking for. I saw no harm in tracking down the person, or persons, who saved me. I wanted to have it tested and possibly traced to the last person who had anything to do with it."
"That person is our strongest known link to the catastrophe. Why was he there? Why did he mislead us with the replacement of your body?"
Okay. They were talking in circles. "Is Snape in trouble or not?"
"If it's proven that he was the one responsible for moving you, that does look suspicious and warrants questioning. If it's proven that he's the one who saved those thirty-one survivors, then we will approach his interrogation a little more cautiously. Either way, we have evidence to support that the crime had nothing to do with him. His involvement centered around you, but we need him to confirm that on record."
"You don't know where he is?"
"Since he makes appearances for you, we were hoping you'd lead us right to him. He's not a suspect, but we do need his cooperation."
He gave Harry a minute to process this, before adding. "This is only one reason why we want to make you a proposition. The other is that we need your wand. You have some experience in hunting criminal wizards. You turned down an auror apprenticeship, yet you are a veteran of the war and faced Death Eaters single handedly. You have the stomach for this kind of work. I'd like to offer you training and a position in our organization. After what I've seen tonight, your ability to legiliment with your wand, and pull evidence directly from the source, is the kind of advantage we need in our organization. You would not be asked to take on a detective role unless you wanted to train for it. But our immediate plans for you would entail using your abilities to help interrogate criminals like Tally. You wouldn't have to get your hands dirty. You'd simply come in behind our questioning and lay the suspect's mind bare. You'd leave. You'd be back home in time for dinner. And you'd have credentials that would give you access to certain data banks of information on former teachers. Think it over, don't answer now."
Stunned, Harry listened as the Admiral volunteered information on Tally.
"The only thing we know about your accusers tonight, is that they are a mixture of activists with only a few petty crimes between them. The instigator, Tally rallied their support by promising to expose corruption in the Ministry. His real goals are about making key figures disappear. He works for an organization hidden deep in global reform and mass terrorism."
Before Harry could ask, he answered.
"Yes, he's a murderer and he tried to kill you several nights back. We didn't know that until tonight. We can't always see you. You're rather like that Snape fellow, we lose track of your magical signature. Your picture on the front page of the Prophet, was supposed to be the last one you ever took, and something of a souvenir. He was rather proud of that. Imagine your killer's surprise when you lived, again."
There was no satisfaction in hearing that.
"We already have security around you, but we're dealing with advanced technology and wizards. Not a great combination. If you join us, we can protect your family better."
Yet you couldn't prevent that injection, Harry thought. "I didn't think I was an actual target. Just someone in the way."
"Tally has a certain psychological profile. We think it became personal when you didn't die the first time. And the second time really made him sore. Even among wizards, that's a bad omen. He's bored with thankless accomplishments. There's no telling how many successful missions and assassinations he has under his belt. It's not enough anymore. He wants some of the satisfaction of seeing the world react to his art. In his own twisted way, he wants to be appreciated for what he's good at. You drew him out into the open, and that may have just been his downfall."
The weight of it all forced Harry to close his eyes. How was he going to lay all this on Draco? It affected his freedom to come and go too.
"Am I still a target or not?"
"Now that we have your attacker, we simply don't know for certain. We're hoping our investigation will uncover that. And we're hoping we'll get your help. Think about what I've said. The closer you work with us, the safer your family will be."
My family's safety isn't your responsibility. It's mine. He kept this to himself, knowing it was nothing more than dangerous pride and his daughter didn't need that.
He listened as best as he could to the Admiral's appeal over the next hour. All he could think of was gathering Iece and Draco tonight, and getting them to some remote place. Memories of Uncle Vernon rowing them all to a lighthouse surrounded by water, made his heart ache with understanding how terrified his uncle must've been.
The Admiral read his distraction correctly. Gears must've been turning behind his eyes. "If someone is after you, taking your family to an isolated location would simply make you an easier target. Let us help you."
His plea fell on deaf ears. Harry buried his head in his hands and forced the weight of his decision back. For moments at a time, he and the Admiral looked at each other without saying a word. The Naval officer was showing him, proving to him, that he wasn't going anywhere. Harry would not be allowed to go through this alone.
They released him before midnight, as promised, and he found himself reeling from portkey travel, in front of Thella's tent.
There were no lights inside, but he heard her say, "Come in, Harry."
As soon as he crossed the boundary, he saw that she'd only used a spell to make it look like she was closed for business. Inside, he clearly smelled tea and the kind of noodles one heated in a cup of boiled water. A late dinner. Paper lanterns emitted soft light from the corners of the tent. She stood holding a paper cup of tea for him.
He shook his head. "Thank you, but no. I'm sorry, I have to get my daughter and go. I can't thank you enough for your help. Are you okay? Did you get out of there all right?"
"I'm fine. Your little girl is fine. We were held in a room till it was all over. I've only been back an hour. Mr. Malfoy and Minister Banks showed up to take her. I let her go with her other father, I hope that's okay. I could hardly keep him from taking her. I wouldn't be surprised if my background isn't thoroughly checked by morning."
Laughter, even the thought of it, helped. "What do I owe you, I forgot to pay."
He felt for his wallet and her hand on his arm stopped him. "That was on the house. Few people come to me needing that kind of help. It was an honor."
She thought it was a compliment, but another accolade to his fame only pinched his insides with bitterness. He didn't argue with her.
"Okay. I guess this is good night then." He felt like he wasn't saying nearly enough. But he had to catch up with Draco and bring this night to an end.
When he offered his hand, she took it. "Remember the talisman. And drink fluids. Electrolytes. Good night, Mr. Potter."
Back out into the night, he tried to see the sky behind all the black cloud cover. No stars. No moon. No matter. Fireworks suddenly illuminated everything in sparks of red, gold, and green. Cheers went up and he saw that the lecture disturbance had not slowed the festival down one bit. Music spilled onto the streets from a distance. Festival goers were still wandering, eating sausages and sloshing beer from paper cups. Groups were thinner, but just as loud and appearing to grow more boisterous as the evening wore on. Obviously, children had been put to bed and grownups had the run of the place. Cannabis filled the air and Harry tried to steadied his nerves to apparate to Draco so soon after the portkey. He didn't even know where Draco was.
Before he could fish for his phone and dial the right number, he was grasped and pulled further into the street, leaving Thella's tent behind.
"Ah ha, There you are! Man, we've been looking every where for you."
He hardly recognized Greg's leering grin under the light of the fireworks. Green skin, red skin, gold skin. For a second, the menagerie rendered Harry mute.
Greg slapped his back. "We caught the show. We didn't know what the hell happened to you. That was badass! I have never seen a wizard rip some shit like that out of somebody's mind. I heard they been looking for that guy for years. It's all over the wizard news. When you put on a show, you fucking put on a show."
Harry shook his head against the blast of Greg's energy. No, he had not forgotten this bastard and nothing was okay. When he pulled away, Greg retracted his hands to himself.
"C'mon, Potter. Even you gotta admit that went a long way to breaking the ice with me. You have my respect. I was an asshole. I admit it. Whatever you want me to say."
Harry walked around him. "Don't try to kiss my ass now."
He got two steps away before he heard, "What was I supposed to do? I couldn't beat you in the air, I can't compete with that diva you call a boyfriend. You're the hottest piece of ass on this tour and there I was sitting that close to you. I didn't stand a chance, so I took what I could get away with in the moment. Haven't you ever felt your one and only chance to make a move slipping away? So I did something I shouldn't have. I'm sorry if it pissed you off, but I'm not sorry."
They were beginning to attract stares and Harry lifted his eyes back to a black heaven, wondering just who was up there enjoying all of this. Did his parents think this was funny?
He didn't feel like he was in any danger at the moment, maybe just too tired to judge the situation accurately. He let Greg off the hook, not caring one way or another. "Just leave me alone and don't try it again."
Greg laughed. "You've got to be kidding. I'm a wizard. I know what was in that kiss. If anything, you should be thanking me. We both liked it. Can you just admit that?"
Harry turned on him. "Look, all of this might be a game to you, but someone tried to kill me tonight, and has been for days. The only thing I can possibly think of right now is getting my family to safety. I'll quit the fucking team if that's what it takes to get you out of my face."
Greg finally looked as if he'd heard something Harry said. "Holy shit. I get it. You're stressed out. Look man, I'm not hear to make things worse. You're right, I have no idea what you're going through right now. But I do want to be a friend, not a jerk. Not an enemy. I've seen what you can do and I want you on my side."
Harry took in Greg's leather jacket and casual jeans. The street attire somehow cost him points for wearing it well. It was all surface flare and Harry knew he couldn't put his trust in that. But the guy did fill out the thighs of his pants nicely. Harry made the mistake of looking a second too long. He turned and Greg leapt forward, catching his arm.
"I promise, I will personally escort you back to your room and stay on the outside of the door, if you let me buy you a drink. You're safe now. They got the dude. You don't need to go back to a lonely hotel room, you need to hang out with friends and celebrate. Jason and I are going to this great underground place. A rave. You can forget everything in that energy. We'll make sure you get back safe and sound. It's a night out you deserve, and judging by that kiss, if you tell me you're not interested, you're a fucking liar and I know your man isn't taking care of you. Just a drink. Some slams on the dance floor. Out by 2:00. If you go back to your room right now, you know you're not going to sleep. You're in too much pain to sleep. Thrash all this frustration away against some hot, angry bodies that can take it. A rave man, ever been to one?"
You're in too much pain to sleep. "No." His mind told him not to say another word. It told him to be insulted and get rid of Greg before he could weaken his resolve any more.
"What'dya say? You don't want to go back to that empty room. There's no love there. Hang with your new friends. You don't need to be alone right now."
That false concern made Harry smile at how transparent it was. It made him realize that even though he knew Greg was a lying sack of shit, those words, their comfort, still felt good to hear. Something in him wanted Greg to mean it. If he really had it in him to mean it, then Draco had something to worry about. But he didn't. Not even when he stepped so close to Harry that he blocked out the light from the fireworks.
Harry allowed himself two seconds to breathe Greg's woody cologne and to feel his body heat permeating his personal space. Then he said, "I have to check on my -"
He never got the word 'daughter' out. Greg's mouth locked onto his and once again something in him responded as if it were real. As if he could trust it. He wanted to shove Greg away but he didn't know how to say no to the relief of pleasure as it surged forward and took what his body needed. Greg's warmth held no answers, but it did hold comfort. His straining grip, told Harry how much he was wanted, how much he was savored. He pulled Harry into him, his hands wrapping like pythons around Harry's slender back. For seconds, for minutes, Harry didn't know, he was free-falling and unable to control the momentum that had him opening to Greg and taking as much as he wanted in return.
When he regained enough control to pull out of it, he turned his head and pushed a fist's length between them. "We can't do this. This is fake, this is nothing."
Greg's breath tasted of beer. "All the more reason to let yourself have it."
Harry threw his appeal for help skyward. He spoke to more than Greg when he said out loud, "I want my family more than I want you."
Greg laughed, and dove for his neck. Behind him, Harry saw Thella exit her tent. Instead of being embarrassed, he knew she had heard him. In silence, her graceful hand lifted to touch an invisible object below her throat. The talisman. She was reminding him.
His fist left Greg's chest to grasp the talisman. His conscious touch drew from it, the projection of his daughter. She played in sunlight, in a dress that he'd never bought her, on a day too sunny to be real. And still he felt it. Still it worked. He felt Greg collapse against him.
The other man shook in a fit of laughter and Harry waited it out. As Greg took his weight off of him, Thella slipped back inside her tent.
"Oh man. How greedy am I? Look, I'm sorry. You're in a bad place and I'm taking advantage of it. You're right. I'm an asshole. Tell you what, I'm going to give you some time to think about it. If I can keep my hands off of you for the next three times we meet, will you at least think about giving me a real shot? I don't want to take you away from your family, I just want to sleep with you. Why should the Malfoys get all the fun?"
The statement didn't paralyzed Harry as much as it should've. He realized now that Greg was quite drunk. Instead of getting out of it the easiest way possible, he lifted his head, looked him in the eye and said, "No."
He couldn't explain it. He'd slept with other people. He and Draco both had. But tonight that wasn't going to happen. This man had started something that only Draco could finish. Greg had been instrumental in helping him to figure out what he wanted. He wanted Draco like this, under a sky filled with fireworks, drunk on beer and survival, grateful to be alive, grateful to have all they had and ready to make love in front of strangers if they didn't have sense enough to look away. That intoxicated, and that excited about being with one another. Where had that gone? And why did it take this knuckle-headed idiot to show him he could still have it?
The talisman. It worked.
He abandoned Greg as gently as he could, walked away, and dialed Draco's number. He hardly waited for Draco to speak.
"Harry? The Minister said you'd be fine. Are you –?
"Where are you?"
"The Grey Estate. Iece is fine also. Jipsy's put her to bed. We want you to come home tomorrow."
"I'm coming tonight. Right now. Are you busy?"
"Um, Harry that's not a good idea."
"Who's there?"
"No one. It's just that when I see you, we're going to need to talk. So much has happened today, I want you to be fully rested when we discuss what's going to happen next."
He shook his head, knowing full well Draco couldn't see him, and not caring. "I'll tell you what's going to happen next. You and me. Tonight. I can't stand another minute away from you. The way things are going, I might not live for another opportunity."
Draco's voice faltered. "Harry, are you drunk? Do not come here. This is a bad time and your daughter is asleep. If you wake her up, we'll be up all night."
"It's a mansion. I'll peek in on her, and you can tell Jipsy to put a silence spell around her room. I don't want her to hear us."
He ended the call, not waiting on Draco to make another excuse. He concealed himself between tents and braced his body for the apparation.
Seconds later, he stood in what was once, one of the Malfoy's receiving rooms. Draco had hired a company to redecorate over his parent's austere tastes so that Harry might feel more comfortable there, but Harry had never liked the place even then. A stay over night was an acquiescence to Draco's organized life and a bid to keep the peace between them. Harry raced through the room now, nearly tripping over antiques as he started stripping on his way in search of Draco. He kept quiet, wanting to see the look of surprise take over Draco's face. He'd warned Draco, but that didn't mean the other believed him. He was really going to do it. He was really going to back Draco against the wall and not take no for an answer.
After two weeks, he owed the both of them what Rankar would've called, "a positive sexual experience." Even before the train wreck, they hadn't had one of those in a long time. The way his body had responded to Greg's kiss, told him his sexual power and joy was still there. Maybe there'd been too much pressure with Draco, too much baggage. But tonight, he was ready for it. His body remembered what it was all about and his cock practically pointed the way as it led him through rooms that once turned his stomach at the thought of their occupants, but now assured him he'd make love to Draco in every single one of them and finally claim the place as his own.
The upstairs bedrooms were devoid of human presence. Iece's nursery was across the hall from Draco's old bedroom, the only room he could sleep in. The master bedroom had been turned into another library, to render its contaminated taint neutral to Harry's sensibilities. He was glad not to have found Draco there. Tantalizing thoughts of bending Draco over his father's old desk, which Draco insisted on keeping, "It was carved from a solid piece of Redwood," excited him to get closer and closer to the downstairs study.
Satisfied that the place was empty, he left his jacket and tie in the hall and stepped out of his shoes just as he approached the door to Draco's office. Through a crack, he saw Draco seated to the right side of the room, his head perched on double folded fists, contemplating some dreary concern. Harry had a three-quarter view of him and relished the shock on Draco's face when he stepped into the room.
Draco startled, blinking. "Harry?"
"I told you I was on my way. I hope you're ready."
"God, Harry." Draco leapt to his feet.
"Didn't think I meant it, did you? I want you to shout my name just like that. I've been so fucking afraid of this place. Tonight, I'm going to own this bitch. I'm lucky enough to have you, and I'm going to show you how much I know it. How much I want it. If we have to do it in every room, all this bullshit ends tonight. I want you Draco and I'm not letting another second go by without you knowing it."
"Harry, this is not a good time." Draco's color drained and his eyes took on a round, clinical alarm, like a doctor keeping his cool, but terrified to give the worst diagnosis possible. "Get your clothes."
A crack in Draco's voice told Harry how effective the sight of his full erection straining through his shorts must be. "Bet you haven't seen this in a while. I'm back. Maybe someone should try to kill me every night. I'm fucking over it. I wanna see yours."
He reached for Draco's belt and pulled him, protesting, into a kiss befitting the two weeks of pent up desire. "Can't believe I was so afraid to ask for this."
"Harry." Draco's shoves were panicked but light. Harry held him still.
"I thought you were going to leave me. I get that you need Iece to get used to being without me, but we can still meet. She can see Daddy, and Daddy can get what he needs..."
"Harry!" Draco's shoved hard. Hard enough to make Harry question the force. When they stood looking at one another, Draco blurted. "We are not alone."
Harry took in the room, the couch in front of Draco's desk, the empty leather chairs, the bookcases, the plants, statues, and sliding doors that went onto a balcony. He saw no one else in the room. Not until Draco spoke to the mirror consuming one-third of the wall behind the couch. "Mother, Father, Harry didn't see you there. He couldn't."
It wasn't his fault, Draco's tone stubbornly apologized on Harry's behalf.
Freezing from the inside, Harry slowly turned to see the reflections of Draco's parent's staring back at him. They were reverse reflections, for they were using one of the oldest ways long distance communication known to wizards. A seeing mirror. The stuff of muggle fairy tales. This one was mounted in a sectional frame, carved from giant sequoia roots and sprawled like growing Devil's Snare over the wall. Each loop between polished bark, was a place where the mirror pooled into a silvery surface. The Malfoys stood in the largest middle section of it and Harry could see clear into their home, to the sofas and cavernous space of furnishings on the other side.
A twitch to Narcissa's mouth drew his attention there. He never knew if she was smiling or smirking. Pitying or laughing. Her subtlety was an art. But just in case she was laughing at him, he called her a bitch in his mind. The heat in his chest, and tears in his eyes wouldn't let it come out of his mouth. The only real reason he had to hate her, was that she'd done nothing to stop what had happened that night. And that was plenty. Lying to Voldemort to save her son, had been too little too late. And him. Harry couldn't even look at the wizard pinning him with those glacier, soulless eyes without smelling his own blood from that night.
He couldn't stop the rage that climbed his spine and swore death even as Lucius feigned innocence and regarded him with false civility. Everyone in the room knew this war was still going on.
"Harry, I'm sorry." Draco whispered. "I tried to tell you."
Harry spun to face him. "You said you were alone."
"I am alone. They aren't physically here."
"They're closer to my daughter than they should be!"
"She's fine. Jipsy has her. They can't go anywhere near her."
"They're too close for my liking. And you could've done a better fucking job of saying something."
"I had no idea you'd try this. I'm sorry."
He wasn't looking at Draco. One of the Malfoys had just cleared their throat, like they were being fucking inconvenienced. When he looked back at them, they were standing like statues, removed from the scene at hand. But their eyes recorded Harry's every wince, his nudity, and every second of his humiliation.
He'd show them. He wasn't crying because he was scared. He was crying because he couldn't kill them the way he wanted to. He didn't know what they were up to, but he didn't like it. With no better way to make his point, he picked up one of Draco's brass paper weights and threw it. He knew the mirror had to be spelled against damage, which is why he took tremendous delight in seeing it shatter at the force of his magic. If they thought he was weak, they would know differently. If they thought he was going to let them harass him with their presence around his daughter, they'd know they had a fight on their hands. His magic might've been scarred, but it was alive and well, and so much stronger than theirs.
As dust and shards flew out into the room, Draco ducked, shielding his face from the spray. Harry screamed at Lucius and Narcissa, "Stay away from her. Stay away!"
When the walls stopped shaking, brown paper backing and crumbled bits of roots, were all that was left of the mirror. The floor lay strewn with glass, splinters, and plaster. Harry did not apologize for destroying a magical heirloom that was probably over a thousand years old. Draco, who shook glass from his hair, did not expect him to. Without another word, Harry picked up his shirt and pants and stormed out. He ignored the sound of Draco calling him back.
He didn't dress until he was on the lawn outside of the estate. Shaking, he buttoned his shirt and thought about how drunk he needed to be before he could forget how humiliated he was. Images of Jasper and Greg, downing shots at a rave, suddenly held new appeal for him. Before he could change his mind, he apparated, leaving the Malfoy lawn quiet, dark, and empty.
A/N: Please review! :-) Thanks.
