So happy to update again! This finishes the complex day and some set up that I'm trying to get going for later stuff, so this chap is a little on the slow side, but necessary.
Please enjoy!
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-=REVISED 7/17/2023=-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
I had some time and thought I thought I'd do some simple revisions-mostly grammar stuff, but also including changing the narrative from present tense to simple past tense. Hopefully, it's a better read this way.
Enjoy!
Chapter 18. A Complex Day Part III
Dinner in the Flamel's quarters was an enjoyable affair for the four as Flitwick elaborated on his time as a Dueling champion and his love of charms. The Flamels and Flitwick connected especially well with their respective times living in the unique beauty of the country of France. Harry listened eagerly, absorbed by Flitwick's exuberance, and grateful the professor didn't push him to answer any brash questions about his past or his magical proficiency. It was a delightful luxury that didn't feel like it came at a cost; at least, not at first. It was reaching the end of the meal when Flitwick explained to the synthetic family the driving force behind his presence with them.
"Again that was lovely, Perenelle," Flitwick graciously said. "I can't recall the last time I dinned on a meal that wasn't prepared by house elves. They tend to make their wonderful meals with consideration for all tastes which can leave meals a little bland at times. I'd almost forgotten how much I enjoy spicy, though, at my age, it's best to limit my intake to once a month."
"Thank you," Perenelle easily returned, looking over to Harry. "Ares had purchased a fantastic bottle of hot sauce for me earlier today and I thought I'd test it out."
"So in reality, you were doing her the favor of being a guinea pig," Nicolas added with a smile.
"The honor more like it," Flitwick laughed, bouncing a bit in his chair. "Well, I think it's time I should explain my interest in meeting with you all."
"Should we assume the Headmaster will hear about this conversation?" Nicolas brashly dared to ask, clearly still bitter with Dumbledore. "I have no qualms saying we are not fans of his at the moment, and we would not take kindly if he's encouraged you to disregard our privacy to learn of anything we say all in the name of his sense of entitlement."
"On my honor, I will not mention the details of this conversation to the headmaster, or his agents, though I'm sure he likely knows of our having dinner," Flitwick told Nicolas. "While he does have an insatiable need to know everything, this meeting has more to do with my other native affiliation."
"The Goblin Nation?" Harry curiously asked, his mind already wondering what business Goblins had with him.
"Correct," Flitwick stated, surprised. "My, I nearly awarded you five points," he added with a chuckle.
"Well, Slytherins could use em," Nicolas said, looking at Harry before returning his attention to the diminutive professor.
"It's because of my standing among wizard society and my singular association with goblin kind, that I've been tasked to make an offer on behalf of the King of Goblins, Ragnuk the Eighth."
"Descendant of Ragnuk the First, and obviously the eighth Ragnuk to take the crown," Perenelle said to Harry. "That name hasn't always been the most benevolent of bloodlines to wizardkind."
"I'm hardly surprised you're knowledgeable about our history," Flitwick expressed to Perenelle. "It's my belief the difficulty with wizard-goblin relations has always been that neither side forgives or forgets."
"Does the goblin nation still believe Godric stole the Sword of Gryffindor from them?" Nicolas asked.
"Oh yes," Flitwick easily answered. "In fact, it's been instructed as fact in their academy's curriculum for some time now."
"Maybe you have the right of it. Centuries later and yet, no change," Nicolas said tiredly, shaking his head. "I can't imagine King Ragnuk's too happy with us after the stunt we pulled in Gringotts."
"It goes without saying Goblins are not generally fond of wizards, however, the art of negotiation is rich in our blood, imparting us with a stern appreciation for a good hustle. In fact, it is because of your intervention with Gringotts that King Ragnuk has been able to come across some alarming revelations."
"What does King Ragnuk want from us?" Perenelle cautiously asked.
"The King has been looking to procure an ingredient for some time now; an ingredient I recently sent word I may be able to facilitate for him. It's why I've been meaning to speak with you as soon as readily possible." Flitwick turned to Harry, continuing, "You see, during your descent into the multitude of Acromantula—which still astounds me, if I may say—I allocated myself at the highest tower and enhanced my spectacles. I witnessed what had to be your Phoenix apparating in her fiery manner into battle with a very large snake; a snake the Acromantula were deathly afraid of. It didn't take me long to come to the conclusion that what I'd observed was indeed a Basilisk."
"A Basilisk," Harry repeated with a hint of surprise as his mind began formulating a cover.
"Surely you must be mistaken," Nicolas humorously stated.
"Given our laws, I can understand your reluctance to confirm what I saw, but I can assure you the King, among others in the nation, would believe it; would believe me."
"Regardless of facts, it sounds as if you've already put us in a precarious position, Filius," Perenelle told the half-goblin, who only inclined his head.
"You may wonder why that is," Flitwick began. "It's only natural. I want you to know I have no ill will toward any of you. Quite the opposite in fact. I hold a great deal of respect for this house and the magical boundaries it continues to push to this day. It's because I believe this that I made this decision."
Perenelle caught Nicolas and Harry's eyes before saying, "While we appreciate your regard, that still doesn't explain anything."
"I realize that, and I promise to explain myself more in the near future," Flitwick expressed. "At the moment I would simply make the King's request and bid for your understanding."
The three Flamels gave each other a silent appraisal. There was much that eyes could communicate to one another, but in this case, the only thing that needed expressing was objection, which none of the three expressed. Seemingly content to continue, Harry regarded the half-goblin professor, asking, "you're saying King Ragnuk wants a Basilisk?"
"Yes," Flitwick answered.
"I bet anything he wants to farm their venom," Perenelle suspected correctly. "For weapons more than likely."
"I cannot claim to know that for certain," Flitwick told her. "It is not for one such as I to know the King's prerogative, but if weapons are the ultimate goal, than he'd need a large quantity of the venom, hence the basilisk."
"Far more venom than regulations clearly states any one certified wizard can have, let alone sell to Goblin kind," she replied. "Regulations by the Ministry's Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures states a small amount may be sold but even that is strictly scrutinized by the Goblin Liaison Office. The quantity your king seems to want is considered a war crime in our society, tantamount to capital punishment for high treason. Even with our status, they'd easily seat us over Death Potion for this... that's of course if we had a basilisk."
"Our King is aware," Flitwick sympathetically stated. "He doesn't wish to cause your house such a devastating inconvenience… but, he is quite capable of being inhospitable. I don't agree with this, however, he has mandated I make you aware that he would go so far as to inform the Ministry that you have a basilisk, which is, of course, illegal as well."
"Not nearly as illegal as treason," Nicolas returned.
"But adding nicely to the legal troubles we're already facing," Perenelle finished in a hard tone.
Making it all too clear to all present, Nicolas voiced, "He's trying to blackmail us."
"The King wants the venom as much as you wanted the dark item from Lestrange vault," Flitwick returned.
"There's a reason these restrictions have been placed on Goblin kind," Perenelle explained. "Several rebellions were sparked specifically for this very reason."
"This is for war," Nicolas announced, offended.
"I am not privileged enough to know King Ragnuk's plans for the Basilisk or the venom," Flitwick replied. "But he is willing to pay quite handsomely for it."
"We have more gold than we know what to do with as it is," Nicolas retorted.
"King Ragnuk is aware that may be the case-"
Nicolas interrupted, saying, "I don't believe there's any amount of compensation or threat the King can offer that would make us agree to his demands."
"…This will be the final point Ragnuk wishes you to know, as a sign of good faith," Flitwick cautiously stated. "The enemies of his reign have positioned themselves to be your enemy as well. Dark Goblins are on the rise."
"There have always been Dark Goblins," Perenelle asserted. "Why are they suddenly an enemy of wizard kind?"
"Not an enemy of wizardkind; of you, as in, the House of Flamel," Flitwick specified. "Despite our strict adherence to client confidentiality, the Dark Goblins have learned of how you forced the King's hand. Though King Ragnuk was not involved with the strong arm you reached with Gringotts, this has been used as propaganda to make the King look weak toward wizardkind. One of the many promises made by Dark Goblins and their leader Vorkalth is to prove their strength by killing the highly celebrated Immortal Alchemist and his family."
"They couldn't," Perenelle shot back. "Even an attempt on our lives would certainly start a war with wizards."
"It would certainly be difficult for them," Flitwick agreed. "However if I may be frank, it is not impossible. There is a way the dark goblins can succeed without initiating an all-out war. If they overthrow Ragnuk, they could make a significant trade deal with the Ministry that might be enough to turn a blind eye on any ''coincidental'' or ''accidental'' death of your entire house."
"If it's galleons the Ministry wants, I can certainly make as many as needed," Nicolas countered. "Not to say I would."
"But for how long?" Flitwick asked. "Will your alchemy's gold support an entire country's economy? You may be immortal but you are not an enterprise. Gringott's is our economy, and for that sort of trade deal, the Ministry might weigh their options."
"A lot of things have to happen perfectly for them before we get to that point," Harry pointedly stated.
"I agree," Flitwick said with a nod. "That was only an example. The point being, it isn't impossible and Dark Goblins are tenacious."
Harry asked, "How'd the dark goblins find out about what happened in Gringotts?"
Nicolas piggy-backed on Harry's question, adding, "Goblins have an elaborate spy network so you must know something."
Flitwick answered, "All I can tell you is, some time ago, a woman who did not look like Bellatrix Lestrange gained proper access to the Lestrange vault. When she did not find the item you had already taken into your possession, she became extremely upset, to the point she drew her wand, and security had to escort her out. Even with our network of intelligence gathering, she has not been seen or heard from since. She would be the most obvious culprit. The theory is she established contact with Vorkalth and his Dark Goblins, who have flamed the passion of law-abiding, yet persuadable Goblins to their cause. To my knowledge, they have not uncovered the specific Goblin who shared the information with the Dark Goblins, but as I said, I am not privileged enough to know everything; only what the King deems necessary for these talks."
"Tell King Ragnuk we do not have a Basilisk and that you were mistaken," Nicolas said. "We want no part of this."
"I do apologize, but I was not mistaken," Flitwick confidently and apologetically stated.
"I know," Nicolas returned. "But this is not a deal we can accept, so the official stance of House Flamel is we do not own a Basilisk. However, I am in contact with an old colleague who has a basilisk carcass if the King would like to trade for that."
Sensing the beginnings of a lengthy negotiation, Flitwick nodded his head, stating, "I understand. I will pass along your message to the King. I do hope I haven't irreparably soured our relationship. If so, I do sincerely apologize."
Nicolas nodded in understanding as he relayed, "I can only imagine how difficult of a position you must be in, Filius—to be the King's voice. Being of two worlds, when they collide, the perilous result is the unsettled mind of those that do and die."
"We are but soldiers," Flitwick sadly returned.
"And the winner is death," Harry glumly added.
"Such a pleasant ray of sunshine, the three of you," Perenelle sarcastically quipped.
Despite being in the privacy of the Flamel's flat, after Flitwick's exit, Harry erected his best privacy wards. The Flamels waited in silence for fifteen minutes before Harry felt comfortable enough with his charms to speak safely.
"Well, I must say, this sounds quite unfortunate," Perenelle said in a ruffled and provoked tone. "As if there wasn't enough for us to deal with."
"I've always thought we got off too easy," Nicolas threw out, slightly nettled. "Every action certainly has their equal and opposite indeed."
"There's nothing equal about this," Perenelle contended.
"We should wait to hear back before we do anything," Harry told them. "Do you think you can handle this Nicolas? I'm all but certain King Ragnuk isn't going to listen to a fourteen-year-old."
"Well, of course, Harry," Nicolas returned brightly as if there was never a doubt. "I won't allow the goblin king to take Nāga."
"Nor the Ministry," Perenelle added. "I fear if Ragnuk does make good on his threat, we'll have another swell of legal woes to contend with."
Her statement made Harry's shoulders fall, as if he was only a source of problems for the people that's done so much for him.
"Don't even think about apologizing, Harry," Nicolas interrupted Harry before he could speak. The look on the young wizards face clearly expressed remorse and Nicolas had no doubt the young warrior was shouldering it all and blaming himself for it. "We won't accept since you have nothing to apologize for. Now, moving on. Has Nāga eaten all of the carcass? Or has he left something for me to work with?"
It took Harry a moment to accept support and rapport before onerously pulling himself together to answer. It still amazed him to have such a palpable show of support from anyone, and saddened him at the same time, as it reminded him of how much Ron and Hermione had supported him.
Harry cleared croaky throat before saying, "...Uh, no. I thought it was weird for him to eat his own mother, so I've been feeding him mostly enlarged rats that I get from the kitchens. He likes to chase them before eating them. There ought to be eighty percent of the carcass left."
"Has it been rotting away in there the entire time?" Nicolas asked.
"No," he answered. "I used one of your preservation charms on it. I eventually wanted to make a suit of armor from the hide. I moved it to the outer chamber since I just flame into the main chamber."
"We'll have to check it out as soon as possible," Nicolas stated, his mind already running trade scenarios they might have to counter the king with, should the hide not be enough.
"We can go tonight but first, what do you guys know?" Harry relayed to them everything that had been told to him by his friends, and he assumed Nicolas or Perenelle must know more.
"The most pressing bit would be the Acromantula attack," Nicolas began. "It wasn't random, and this Dawlish character was most certainly not working alone. He had an accomplice."
"Who was he working with?" Harry quickly asked.
"Unfortunately we don't know," Perenelle answered tersely, as if recalling the moment she was told the frustrating news. "Even under virataserum, he couldn't say. Whomever it was masked him or herself, down to their voice, giving nothing away, not even skin tone. He didn't know who it was but they paid him the largest sum of money up front he'd ever seen with the promise of the same amount after, simply to do this one task."
"Which means, if this was really their first arrangement between the two, looking into Dawlish's past known associates might not help us find who this mystery person is," Harry mumbled to himself. "Still, they must be wealthy, or have access to a large sum of galleons, and is knowledgeable or employs someone knowledgeable on potions. What else?"
"Motivated by haste and greed, Dawlish apparently reasoned the abrupt tournament you were holding with the other students was as good an opportunity as any for a distraction, but apparently the attack last week wasn't to plan." Harry listened with such focus, his mind flourished many possibilities with every word as Nicolas continued, "The plan was to distract in order to facilitate a kidnapping. Their target was any Flamel they could easily take during the first Task of the tournament. You, Perenelle, or myself; it didn't matter who as long as we were alive."
Perenelle added, "I relayed to Sirius and Amelia the events that led us to the middle of that field, which only seemed to corroborate everything. Dawlish came to me saying his partner, Ms. Tonks, had an accident with her wand and needed assistance. In actuality, he stunned her himself. I rushed over and when I realized it wasn't what he said, it was too late. He forced me to levitate Ms. Tonks while he had his wand on me and rushed me to the gate. That's when Draco suddenly came upon us. He stunned Dawlish, and it on our way back is when Tracey, Daphne, and Hermione came upon us. That's of course when the Acromantula attacked."
"He didn't tell you anything? Dawlish, I mean," Harry asked. "While you were walking or at any point after? Maybe a hint of a plan?"
"Of course I asked why he was doing this," Perenelle answered. "But he mainly told me to shut up and keep walking. When I offered him all the money he could want, he said he wasn't stupid, and to keep walking."
"...He wasn't stupid," Harry repeated in deep thought. "How'd he say it?"
"His exact words were, 'don think so, I ain't that stupid,'" Perenelle repeated. "I'd show you but the Pensieve we ordered won't be here for another month."
Harry pondered the words for any clue but found only two viable options for that selection of phrasing. Either Dawlish truly didn't think Perenelle would give him money, or he was scared by the person already paying him.
"I could understand why they'd want me," Nicolas said, interrupting Harry's thoughts. "It's not the first time someone's tried to get their hands on the secret to immortality, can't imagine it'll be the last either, but I can't understand why he, or they, might want either of you."
"Most hear immortal and quickly forget we can still die," Perenelle added. "Without immediate magical intervention, fatal injuries such as stabbing vital organs, decapitation, being burned alive, just to name a few, can kill us just as easily as everyone else."
With a quirked brow, Harry couldn't help but ask, "What magical intervention cures decapitation?"
"A Time Turner," she answered easily.
Harry lightly snorted at that with a slightly amused roll of his eyes and returned to Nicolas' earlier curiosity. "Leverage would be the best way to make you do whatever they want." Harry told Nicolas, but added, "if that is what's really going on here."
"It could most assuredly be something else," Perenelle added. "Sirius is running the investigation, but since Dawlish is an Auror attempting to kidnap the matriarch of a prominent house, this puts the Ministry in a very negative light. Fudge is making absolutely sure nothing gets out, so there's not much more they're willing to tell us."
"So we know more, but nothing really actionable," Harry said as his brain began to question what they knew and why in order to separate debatable from irrefutable.
"Simply more questions," Nicolas agreed. "With the big one being who is our mystery mastermind?"
After a spell of silence, Harry asked one of the lower grade question rattling in the back of his mind. "Why didn't they assign you personal security? They attempted and failed once. I'm certain they'll try again."
"Oh, they did, but we flat out refused them," Perenelle answered. "Told 'em that was never going to happen. Aurors around us every minute of the day would only get in the way."
"At least we know what their immediate objective is," Nicolas stated. "It'll make being prepared for their next attempt all the more easier." While Harry had serious reservations about what they were implying, Nicolas interrupted his thoughts, assuaging, "We know, we know, Harry, but this is what we signed up for. We need to learn more, and if the perpetrators feel we're lax in our security, it'll be easier to draw them out and apprehend them."
"Doesn't mean I have to like it," Harry stated. "You shouldn't have to put yourselves in harm's way for this."
"I'll admit, I'm not exactly looking forward to walking around as bait," Perenelle admitted. "But, we'll be as best prepared as we can possibly be."
"...Alright," Harry glumly stated. "Is there anything else I should know?"
"I have all the makeup assignments you missed from your classes," Perenelle began to say and Harry looked at her to be serious. "Fine. We haven't been told anything more as far as the Ministry investigating you for the deaths of the three Death Eaters, but Amelia did mention this is the first time she's hoping Fudge is every bit the coward she believes him to be. The French Deputy Minister is apparently putting a lot of political pressure on the situation."
"We've spoken to DM Stéphane and they've assured me his government will do all they can," Nicolas added. "They consider it a personal attack of their sovereignty. Which might be the only thing keeping the guillotine above us from its heavy drop."
"They've already offered us asylum if worse comes to worst," Perenelle added.
"Okay," Harry absorbed the news aloud. "Hopefully it won't come to that. I can't exactly fight Voldemort from France. Anything else?"
"When do you want to meet Dumbledore?" Perenelle asked. "He's quite keen."
"The charlatan," Nicolas muttered like a bad after taste.
"Is it true your not talking to him?" Harry humorously asked.
"The man very nearly destroyed everything that matters to me," Nicolas huffed with clear agitation, while Perenelle did her level best to hold in her smile and failing. "Up to that point, I never thought I had to worry about anyone but Tom Riddle and his demented followers. Now, though, who can say?"
"I'll see him tomorrow," Harry answered Perenelle. "First thing he's going to do is take this damn shackle off of Nova."
"He was quite set against that idea when I all but threatened him if he didn't remove it," Perenelle informed him. "It's the reason we left the hospital ward to begin with. I was actually afraid he might do something to you while we weren't around."
"Can't you take it off?" Nicolas asked. "I've tried and haven't come up with anything as of yet."
"Maybe," Harry said with little hope. "I can't read the runes because the paper is folded in on itself, which means I can't locate and exploit weaknesses it may have in the array. I'll have to think of another way, or Dumbledore can be a fucking decent human being and take it off himself."
"Language." Perenelle lightly warned.
"I should've throttled him in the face," Nicolas berated primarily to himself, though heatedly. "One good thwack across the cheek! Why use words if he's gone deaf to reason?"
"I've never been his biggest fan, but I still say we need him, dear," Perenelle admitted. "I feel tomorrow will be a good indication of what we can expect from him in the future."
"No doubt our lunch today will come up," Harry easily assumed. "After we left, was anyone curious about the name Riddle?"
"Not so much actually," Nicolas glumly told him, surprising Harry.
"They mostly wanted to know who you're dating, or will be dating," Perenelle brought up with a cruel, mischievous smirk.
"My word yes!" Nicolas exclaimed, smiling at the fun of it all. "Apparently there's a betting pool going about amongst the faculty," the immortal alchemist further explained. "Lily has bet on Hermione, and while Severus would prefer you believe he isn't at all interested, he's a loyalist to the bitter end and sticking to Ms. Greengrass. Let's see, who else-"
"Children, all of you," Harry interrupted, completely baffled by this point in the conversation.
"Life without frivolities is like a long road without an inn," Nicolas reminded Harry, who shook his head and exhaled audibly.
Louder, Harry reiterated, "So no one asked who Tom Riddle was?"
"Well of course they did," Perenelle responded. "However, Severus quickly suggested you recalled the name from the Slytherin Head Boy alumni board in the common room. Sirius made a joke at house Slytherin's expense and the subject was promptly changed to how you managed to join Slytherin in the first place, among other shop-talk."
"Riddle won't stay secret forever," Nicolas expressed to an anxious Harry. "It's only the beginning after all."
"There is something I'd like to know," Perenelle stated and Harry nodded. "What is the full extent of your magical capability? I've treated magical exhaustion numerous times, and honestly, if it wasn't for the elixir coursing through your veins, I don't see how you could've made it."
"Even with the elixir, Perenelle and Madam Pomfrey worked on you for nearly six hours before they were confident your organs wouldn't shut down again," Nicolas informed Harry. "The amount of focus and magical capacity necessary to levitate all that you did, conjure all that you did… well, it's ancient power the likes of Merlin may have had difficulty utilizing."
"I told you the Horcrux in my head changed me," Harry reminded them. "It removed certain… safety restrictions, and sources magic directly from nature to augment my own."
"Can you put them back? The restrictions?" Perenelle cautiously asked. She understood she was essentially asking him if he could weaken himself despite the monster they—and the wizarding world—have to fight against. However, if the risk was his death—even in victory—then suddenly she wasn't in favor of such ferocious magic. "I only ask because that amount of raw magical power is not sustainable for the human body."
"Even if I could, I wouldn't," Harry flatly told her. Though it irked him that she would ask, considering all the pain he'd suffered, he understood she was only worried about him. "In far too many ways, Voldemort created me, and I'm going to destroy him with his hubris."
"You could die, easily, if you use that much again," Perenelle gravely returned, in a tone that already feared for a funeral in the future.
"I won't," he said before quickly changing the subject. "Is there anything else I should know?"
"Let's see," Nicolas started, tapping his chin with his index finger. "Nova's handicapped—which is just sacrilege against such a divine creature. Some unknown shadow has designs to capture any one of us for possible blackmail purposes or worse. We seem to be the target of a growing rebellion of Dark Goblins, as well as on the brink of criminal prosecution by our Ministry that may lead to a possible arrest, which might also incite war between France and Britain… I think that's everything."
"And don't forget all your make up assignments," Perenelle added with an impish smile, in a way apologizing for bringing up the issue of his magic.
"I'm glad you two are having so much fun with this... like it's just a typical Saturday," Harry said, getting up and walking toward Nova. "We might as well check on the carcass since the world isn't dire or anything."
With plenty of time before curfew, no one stopped Harry, the Immortal Alchemist, or Professor Flamel as they walked to the long bridge located at the rear of the school. Harry, Nicolas, and Perenelle entered the Chamber through the rear entrance, and since Draco still had the map, he didn't worry too much about who might be spying from a distance.
As Nāga slithers toward them, Harry hisses to his large basilisk ~These are friends.~
~Frrrr- Frrriie... Mates?~
~No, not mates,~ he answered. ~More like a family type of friend.~
~Family!~ Nāga hisses happily.
"...At least it understands family," Harry grumbled.
"Did you tell him we're family," Perenelle lightheartedly asked, her lips threatening to smile happily.
"No," he answered with a little more force than he intended. "He- well, yes, but, he just doesn't understand the word friend. He understands family apparently, and mates-"
"Mates?" Perenelle quickly cuts in, eying him in surprise.
With a huff, Harry continued, "But I'm just trying to keep him from killing you so let's just stick to what works, yeah?"
"He seems very excited," Nicolas mentioned from behind Harry as Nāga slithered blissfully around them. "He looks extremely frightful, but, his energy is adorable."
After they checked and inspected the preserved carcass, Nicolas suggested, "We should try to make some armor with this hide. It's a protection of the highest quality—right alongside dragonhide armor, but thinner and lighter."
"Seems like the smart thing to do," Perenelle agreed. "Considering the struggles ahead, preparation is key." Her words struck Harry's memory of other pressing and dangerous concerns. Fortunately, it was not long until they exited the Chamber and Harry left them for the night.
—
Walking into the Slytherin common room, he spotted Draco seated with the rest of the fourth-years, as well as Victor Krum, on the comfortable couches ahead of the main and largest fireplace. Harry took note of the glares leveled at him from what was left of the Upper Order as he calmly crossed the Slytherin commons. Draco turned curiously to him, spotting him a couple of seconds before the others. Harry walked over to the group, with Zabini eyeing him the entire time, when Daphne patted an empty spot beside her, letting him know, "I saved you a seat."
"Thanks," Harry told her with a moderate smile. Looking at the inviting spot beside the beautiful blonde, the surreal realization of what that meant only boosted the anxiousness he had been feeling since the morning. A cold feeling gripped his lungs sharply, shaking his breath. Turning to Draco, whom Krum was chatting with, Harry interrupted with a nervous, "Draco?" As Blaise, Daphne, Tracey, Krum, Nott, Parkinson, and Crabbe and Goyle paid him some form of attention, Harry continued, "Perenelle told me what you did to help her..." Harry looked at all the Slytherins and the one Bulgarian before adding, "Actually, let's talk in private." Harry didn't even wait for Draco to get up before he quickly made his way to his dorm room.
Draco caught up to him in the hall, spouting, "Thank Merlin you showed up. Krum really took to what Granger said about all that respect nonsense to heart; now the wanker wants to get to know us." Harry didn't respond all the way to his door when Draco asked, "Are we going to your dorm? Actually, I can't seem to remember where your dorm room is..."
"Ares Flamel's room is the third to last door in the Slytherin's boy's fourth-year corridor," Harry shared with the silver-blonde.
Suddenly remembering where Harry's room was, Draco gasped as he asked, "You put your room under Fidelius?"
"Shut up," Harry sternly reminded him as he opened his door. Walking in, the boxed-in feeling suddenly mixed with the current apprehension gripping his lungs, hitting him like death ready to snuff his life if he took another step. Harry stopped abruptly, to the point Draco bumped into him. "What the-" Draco started before Harry interrupted, "No! We can't be here."
Picking up on the heightened agitation in Harry's voice, Draco became alert, asking, "What? Why? What is it? Are you sensing something?"
"…Nevermind, let's just…" Harry conveyed and turned around, with Draco hot on his heels and on alert. Walking back through the common room, Harry ignored everyone's curious gaze as the two left the Slytherin house.
Draco asked, "What's going on?" But Harry didn't respond in the portrait-covered halls as they made their way up to the astronomy tower. Under the moonlight, on the open-air observation deck of the tower, Harry felt slightly more comfortable having this conversation.
Turning to Draco, Harry couldn't get a word out before the silver-blonde asked, "You don't plan on talking here, do you?"
"Yeah," Harry answered unsure. "Why?"
"Uh, because this is kind of intimate," Draco responded with concerned eyebrows and slightly scared eyes, hands outstretched as if the atmosphere was easy to read. "This is where guys take girls to start off before they move on to the broom cupboard. We're under the bloody moonlight, for Merlin's sake."
"What? Really? Son of a-" Harry uttered before he took a deep breath, though his nerves stayed just as agitated.
"If you want to talk, what's wrong with the hundreds of empty classrooms we passed on the way here?"
"Not inside," Harry insisted, before getting another idea. "Okay," he said, and they exited the tower, down its steps, through its lively halls, and out its entrance before heading down to the greenhouses. But finding Neville there tending some of the nightshade plants, forced Harry to look elsewhere. He extended his hand and asked Draco for the map.
Saying the password, the Marauder's Map came to life as Draco said, "This is getting ridiculous. If you want to thank me, you sort of don't really have to, you know. I'm sort of obligated to, after all."
"It's not about that," Harry told him as he looked through a large number of people traversing the castle. "And you damn well better save everyone I know."
"Well, then what the fuck is this shit?!" Draco returned before stopping himself and taking deep calming breaths.
"We just need a place to talk that doesn't feel like the walls are closing in," Harry heatedly replied.
Seemingly resigned to this mysterious and delicate conversation, Draco told Harry, "Fine. Let's go." Harry followed him back toward the castle, and when Harry was about to repeat himself, Draco cut him off, saying, "I know what you said."
Reaching the Room of Requirement, Draco mentally selected the design of the magically constructed room. When they entered, it was a gigantic ballroom. A space so big that a crowd of giants would have an easy time dancing without knocking into one another. The walls were lined with tall windows, and what appeared to be dawn light cast a soft golden glow through their tall openings. The tables were all perfectly pristine, set expertly with cutlery and glasses.
So impressed by the grand ornamental setting, Harry couldn't help but ask, "Where is this place?"
"Just a place I know," Draco answered before getting to the point. "You want to tell me what this is about?"
"...Okay," Harry said, pulling his eyes away from the extravagance and nodding to Draco. After several seconds of nodding, Draco shook his head as if to say, 'I'm waiting.' "Okay, okay," Harry repeated.
"... Okay, what?" Draco slowly asked.
Harry abruptly shook his shoulders as though a large hairy spider were crawling over it, then asked, "Have you been searching the forest for the Unicorn killer? Actually, is there anything you were holding back from everyone to tell me in private?"
Draco looked at him in disbelief. "...you freak me out all the way here- ALL the way here to ask me that shite?!"
"Well?" Harry demanded.
"No!" Draco started before taking a calming breath. "I mean yes, I've been looking in the forest every night, and no I haven't found the ghoul. Other than that, I look at the map at least six times a day and I don't see any suspicious names… though it's harder now that Durmstrang and Beauxbaton are staying in the castle—there are more names I don't recognize. Still, I've been keeping an eye on our band, and so far, I haven't seen any sign of retribution, assault or bullying."
"Okay," Harry replied.
"Are we done here?" Draco asked. "I want to try for a couple hour's worth of sleep before we're back in the forest."
"Okay," Harry nervously said, as Draco began to leave. "No! Not..." Draco stopped and looked at Harry expectantly. "I didn't mean 'okay,' as in okay to leave. Okay, okay. Look, we're not friends, yeah? We're not. Let's not pretend here. We've never been, and we probably never will be, but that's not what this is about. This isn't about friendship… this is about desperation. So, just remember, I literally have no one else."
"You sound certifiably mental right now," Draco declared, but Harry's nervous demeanor said it all. "I'm not here to be your personal head healer, you know. I have better shite to do with my time."
"Well tough, I don't like it either," Harry quickly returned. "But you're all I got so, you know. So, support your master."
"You are not my master!" an irate Draco spat back, all the while being aware that wasn't completely the case. The annoyed Draco crossed his arms and waited for Harry to unload his troubled mind when the green-eyed boy once again repeated, "Okay… okay, okay-"
"Will you cut the, 'okay' shite and move it along already!" Draco snapped.
"It's the girls!" Harry loudly threw out. "Hermione, Daphne, and Fleur. I need to talk… sadly, to you, about something I heard. This conversation is… is in relation to…" The pause afforded Harry several moments to realize that this conversation was hard enough without having it with one of the worst people he had ever met. It was near impossible then.
Draco inhaled deeply with grand foreboding before exhaling it all out and called, "Dobby?" Surprising Harry out of his nervous breakdown, Dobby Apparated into the grand majestic room wearing an old and dirty loincloth, completely clashing with the pure cleanliness of the setting.
"Master Draco calls on Dobby, sir," Dobby promptly responded, making Harry wonder why one of his cherished friends was still in service of the Malfoys.
"Dobby," Draco started. "I need you to bring me father's flask, the one he keeps in his main study." At the fearful shakes of its small body and the absolute look of terror in his large eyes, Draco continued to say, "I know you shouldn't, but I want you to bring it to me anyway, and when the old windbag asks about it, I want you to tell him I was the one who took it."
Dobby looked incredibly nervous while Draco seemed to revel in some level of satisfaction by taking credit for stealing his father's personal effects, but Harry was far too captivated by his old, foolish, and lovable friend actually being alive to care. It called on old, strong feelings of sadness and remorse to rise within him, kindling a fear of drowning in those emotions. In an effort to maintain some emotional stability, Harry called to the house elf.
"Hello Dobby," Harry called, concentrating on keeping his emotions in check. As the large-eyed house elf turned to him, there was no recognition in his orbs. Harry achingly remembered this wasn't his Dobby. "Good evening, sir," Dobby responded before snapping his fingers, and the silver flask the size of his hand appeared.
Draco took it, and before Dobby disappeared, Harry told the smaller figure, "you know Dobby, if you ever want to leave the service of the Malfoys and be a free elf, all you have to do is ask me, and I'd be happy to do that for you." Draco and Dobby both looked at Harry, Draco in utter confusion and Dobby in suicidal excitement. Harry could see he was tempted and eager but wouldn't dare say so in front of Draco, so Harry eased his fears by saying, "Draco agrees with me as well. Don't you, Draco?" Harry turned to Draco, giving him such an evil eye that the silver-blonde didn't think twice before nodding in agreement.
"...That's right," Draco queerly stated. "If you want your freedom... just ask."
"Master Draco is too kind," Dobby said. "Much more so than Master's father. Dobby..." he paused to take a moment to gather his courage. "Dobby would like very much to be a free elf, master sir!"
Draco turned to Harry, who only tilted his head and with his eyes, ordered Draco to give him an article of clothing. With a huff, Draco took off his tie and gave it to Dobby.
"...Dobby is- Dobby is FREE!" Dobby yelled in the wide expanse of the masterful room, carrying the sound far before bouncing back in a series of echoes. "Never in a million years is Dobby ever expecting this!"
"Congratulations, Dobby. You deserve it," Harry said with a smile. "Draco's mentioned how hard you work, and if you ever want a paying job, just let me know."
"Good sir would p-pay Dobby?" Dobby asked, astonished.
"Of course. Good labor deserves good pay," Harry said as Draco pulled out a chair and took a seat before knocking back a swig of whatever the strong content in the flask was. "Would you like to work for me? My name's Ares, of the House Flamel."
"The Noble and Most Ancient House of Flamel!?" Dobby gasped aghast to which Harry nodded. "Dobby would be most honored to call sir, master!"
"Please, you don't have to call me master," Harry began to correct. "Ares is more than fine. Would you accept ten galleons a week?"
"Master Ares must want Dobby to die under weight of such greed," Dobby returned, nearly insulted by the outrageously extravagant offer. "Dobby will accept one knut a month."
"A knut a month?" Harry repeated in surprise. "I think you're worth at least a sickle a day."
"Master is far too kind. Six- no five knuts, bi-monthly," Dobby counter proposed.
"A sickle a month, plus time off, final offer," Harry stated, extending his hand and hoping he wouldn't have to pay his old friend any less. Dobby seemed stern as he pondered the offer before finally nodding and shaking Harry's hand. He added, however, "Deal, but only one day off a year, and Dobby must be able to call Master, Master."
"Fine, but only in public," Harry said. "In private or with friends, you have to call me Ares." Harry conjured a simple but clean uniform with the letter F on the breast for House Flamel. As Dobby happily adorned his new clothes with a snap of his fingers, Harry informed him, "You can stay in my room for now, and I'll introduce you to Nicolas and Perenelle later."
"Master's kindness knows no bounds; however, Dobby cannot do this," the house elf said. "Dobby must stay with other house elves, and Master Ares may call Dobby whenever Master has need." Dobby bowed and popped away.
"What the bloody hell was that about?" Draco called, waving the flask at Harry. "That was my fucking house elf you just stole."
"He wanted to be free," Harry sternly answered him. "Why wasn't Dobby freed in this timeline?"
"In this... ... ...That's right," Draco recalled, slumping his shoulders. "Father was furious you tricked him into losing his elf in our timeline. That's the elf that helped you escape..."
"Your house and died because of it," an irate Harry finished. "Exactly. He was a good friend who died saving me, Malfoy," Harry heatedly explained. Draco simply took a solemn swig of the flask, neither apologizing nor provoking any further aplomb for the theft of his house elf. Harry continued, "I can, at the very least, make sure he's free now."
Draco cleared his throat and introduced a segue from the upsetting memories. "Dobby did something in this timeline to annoy father. He beat him pretty good and dumped him on me at the end of the second year," Draco told Harry. "I'm pretty sure the elf told someone something he shouldn't have, though father wouldn't tell me what, and mother didn't know. Now that that's settled…" Draco took another quick swig before recalling, "What was this about the girls?"
Harry was quickly uncomfortable again, but seeing his old elf friend gave him some strength to continue. "Yeah, the girls. I heard them..."
"You heard them?" Draco repeated slowly, trying to coax Harry to continue.
"I'm not sure… Merlin's balls, I'm not sure what to tell you," Harry shyly admitted.
"Just start from the beginning," Draco glumly suggested with a bit of edge in his tone. "Here," he offered, extending the flask to Harry. Harry looked at it suspiciously a moment before Draco answered the curiosity in his eyes, "Ogdens. The finest father has to steal. The cause of, and cure to, all of life's problems."
With a shrug, Harry took it and knocked back a swig, before coughing a load of wet upheaval—and no doubt lung tissue—much to Draco's amusement. "Fuck that's terrible," he painfully heaved an octave lower.
"No appreciation," Draco muttered, shaking his head wistfully. "Give it another chug. It works quick."
After a calming minute, Harry listlessly turned to the flask in his hand, confessing almost to it rather than Draco, "I was awake before you entered the room this morning." Harry took another swig, grimaced but didn't cough as Draco listened. "I do this thing when I wake up. I pretend to still be asleep so I can take stock of my surroundings—"
"Look for threats," Draco added, taking the flask from Harry.
"Right, exactly," Harry excitedly confirmed.
"I do that too," Draco admitted. "That's what you mean by, 'heard them?' Fleur, Granger, and Greengrass? This ought to be good. What'd they say?"
"Okay… okay," Harry started, and Draco gave him a stern look, easily communicating, 'Don't start that again.' "They said they like me… like, properly like me! All three of them."
"Gross," Draco grunted, extending the flask, which Harry gladly took as he nervously paced around the large hall. "Why you? What'd they say?"
Harry gave him the quick gist of how Daphne wanted Hermione's help, but now Hermione likes him, along with how absolutely clear Fleur's been about her feelings. "Daphne, Fleur, and even Hermione! I can't believe it," Harry repeated to the silver-blonde. "Hermione! Merlin's balls, she's my best friend! She- She isn't supposed to like me! Not like that! She's supposed to have this thing with Ron, well, possibly. I don't know. They were dancing around something ever since our sixth year… at least I think-"
"I'm certain I don't care. Truthfully, I don't think I can listen to any of this," Draco restlessly admitted. "The loyalty in me is willing, really, but my heart, mind, and spirit aren't in any way interested in this utter nonsense. If we were talking about stopping you from having a mental freak out, that's fine since it helps me kill that dark filth, but this is not that! Get yourself a poor tomato-head to gab on with, because I draw the line at helping you with your girl problems."
"I expected that from you because, as I said, we're not friends and you're a complete git besides," Harry retorted. "But when I said I didn't have a choice, I also meant you didn't either, because while your flimsy soul, mind, and heart don't want to, all I need from you is that loyalty! So park it!"
Taking deep calming breaths, they stared each other down. "...Gimme the juice," Draco submissively stated, extending his hand. "If this has to happen, then I don't want to remember it."
Harry took another long swig before handing it to Draco, noticing aloud, "how much is in there?"
"Ten of his best hundred-year bottles, so just the right amount for this conversation," Draco answered, taking a long yet cautious gulp. "Fuck you, pops! He hates those type of peasant pet names." He raised the flask's bottom yet again for another few seconds before adding, "I think I'll call him that from now on... Papa Luci." Draco laughed a little more freely.
"You're slurring your words," Harry mentioned, looking at his fingertips as they tingled, and the two Slytherins passed the flask back and forth another couple of times before Harry began again. "This is beyond me, Draco. Ginny was the only girl I've ever been with, and we didn't do more than kiss before the cosmic joke that is my life stopped anything more from happening between us."
"Yes merciful Ogden, please take me away," Draco lightly moaned to himself.
"Draco!" Harry yelled. "You've lived more than I have. I just need a plan. I don't even need you to come up with it, but the faster that happens, the faster this ends."
"I alwayss, thought that was weird," Draco slowly said, slurring a bit. "I was under the impresssion it wass you and Granger, you know, because of the whole constantly bein by your sside an all. I mean, I married Pansy, and out of all the girlss, sshe wass around me the most."
"Hermione's my best friend," Harry responded with a huff. "She's always had my back. Doesn't have to mean more than that."
"Now it's time you have her back," Draco humorously winked at him. "You know what I mean? You know-"
"Shut up, I get it and I don't care for it," Harry told him. "This is serious."
"I'm completely serious. Just go out with her, and let's be done with this," Draco replied.
"I can't," Harry returned with a sigh. "She's my best friend."
"Wrong, ugly baby cupid, ssshe wass your best friend... in another timeline," Draco sluggishly corrected. "In this timeline, she'ss only met you ssome three or so months ago, and within that amount of time you saved her life twice, sstopped her abuse, and are her intellectual equal. Why wouldn't she want ta ride that dragon?"
"Did you just refer to me as the dragon?" Harry asked, terribly surprised, and Draco laughed like a mix between a broken chuckle and coughing.
"Not a fan of risque colloquialism?" Draco asked between hearty chuckles as Harry took the flask and downed three burning gulps. "Tough! Because it's going to be innuendo to the bitter end. Anything to make this conversion bearable."
Harry rubbed his face with his whole right palm, feeling less stressed and more tingling, allowing several moments to pass before continuing. "Despite how different things are now, I can't forget what Hermione means to me. More to the point, I can't be a boyfriend to any of them. I'm not built for that... or even more to the point, my life has more baggage than any one girl could survive. I lost that mindset you need to be happy with a special someone."
"Thaaan just tell 'em to fuck off and you don't want to be with any of 'em." Draco quickly and unsympathetically returned. "That'd easily ssend em away, then you can be all alone again. Isn't that what you want? For them to back away?" Draco drunkenly imitated shooing imaginary girls away with both palms as he mockingly jested, "Back up! Back up, I say! The ninny wants to remain pure. Purity!" He laughed.
Ignoring Draco's inebriated dramatics, Harry continued with mild laziness in his voice, "I want them to be safe. I want them to survive this time," Harry painfully acknowledged. "I enjoy bein friends with this Hermione, Luna, and Fleur. Daphne's pretty chilly but I get her, and I like her too. If I tell 'em I don't share their feelinss, an they actually believe me, they might sstay away."
"There's no might about it," Draco announced with disinterest. "Girls don't take rejection well, and these girls already have potential meat wandsss to move onto. Fleur can varnish Weasley's blushin pole, Krum can worm the book worm, an Zabini can freeze his peter-pecker in the ice queen."
Harry didn't feel comfortable with the black and white decision, nor did he appreciate Draco's vivid nicknames or descriptions. He'd prefer the current social paradigm within the group to stay the same, but if that wasn't an option, then he'd have to step away for their safety. "...Fine," Harry said glumly. "I'll go with that. I don't like the idea of losin Hermione, Fleur, an more than likely Luna again, especially over sssomething like this, but if it means they stay safe..."
"Thank Merlin!" Draco exclaimed, getting up before Harry called, "we're not done. I need a contingency plan, in case they don't believe me."
"Why wouldn't they believe you?" Draco asked with an annoyed moan, his head slanted in a lull to the side.
"Daphne and Hermione are highly observant, Hermione's already said she doesn't abandon her friends, and Fleur is part Veela, givin her a suitable ability to detect dishonesty," Harry answered. "There's a good possibility they wouldn't believe me if I said I don't share their feelin's."
"...Do you?" Draco asked, slightly interested in an answer. "Beeecause I can undersstand them not believing you if in fact you'rrre lying to them about not wanting to pork one or all three of them."
"Porking aside... I... I don't know," Harry lamely admitted, then took another swig of the intoxicating drink. "It's not like I'm blind to their... charms, I mean look at them. I'm still human—I have eyes—but, but that- that's not what this is about, right? My life's never been about what I wanted... with reason."
"Thaaaan pick whoeverrr doesn't believe you," Draco responded without much care, obviously solely motivated by the need to end this conversation quickly.
"I don't think that'll work well," he returned, untroubled by Draco's disinterest. "I can't say I don't like all of them equally than turn around and go out with the one that doesn't believe me. The other two could sssee it aza test they failed, er another lie of sssorts, er a game I'm playin with them, like I'm toyin with their eeemotions or something."
"Sso you would go out with one of them at least," Draco sussed out despite the care-free tranquility of his mind and body. "If only one liked you, who would you want it to be?"
"It's not that I want to go out with one of them," Harry backtracked. "I'm not thinkin about dates an dancin an whatever else couples do. All of that requires a ssstrong level of commitment and affection that I'm fairly certain I lack now, let alone can act on. I want to keep the way things are now."
"So, you're issue is you wouldn't be good boyfriend material even if you only had to deal with one of them liking you?" Draco asked nonchalantly.
"What I'm sayin is every minute of my day is dedicated to the pursuit of murdering that dark wanker, and committing time to somethin other than that feels wrong, like I'm betraying everyone he's already murdered. I'm saying I'm dead to the world, Draco. Tha meanz all its joys, benefits, and fuckin merriment are just distractions. The only thing that matters is killing him. How can I be what a good boyfriend should be, when I'll always know they matter less than my purpose? If I ever had to choose between the two, I can picture the heartbreak in their eyes when I choose the mission."
"I'm not sure that's the, the," he snapped his fingers to jog his sluggish mind. "...the point," Draco casually stated with an air of intoxicated tranquility. "I can't see how anyone would put you in that position if they're smart enough to know what's at stake, as I can only assume those three would be perfectly aware of. For the purposes of ending this agonizing ordeal, assume those three'll follow you in endin that miserable parasite; we'll even say they'd put their rooomantic snuggle-struggle with you on hold till the dark prick is dead. If that choice between them and Riddle never existed, who'd you pick?"
"For Merlin'ssssake Draco," Harry sluggishly returned. "Don't you get it? I'm not what they... want. I'm not even certain I can love anyone like that. My mind would be wrecked with anxiety. And even if it isn't to the level of love, the last thing on my mind is romantic shit, like dates, moonlit strolls around the castle, conversations about our future, marriage, or kids."
"Than do that, you moron!" Draco threw back, leaning so far forward to emphasize his point that he nearly fell out of his chair. "It's soooo simple, isn'it? Pick one, whichever, and don't be accommodating in any way. Do everything exactly as you do, and when she gets tired of you, which I'm supremely confident she will, she'll no doubt break it off with you! Give her two weeks. After, if she tells the other two what a terrible, horrible perso- boyfriend you are, I'm sure they'll reconsider wastin their perfectly delectable assets on you."
"This whole time I waz sure you'd be a massive twat AND completely useless; turns out yer jus a massive twat," Harry told him with some respect. "I wasz avoidin—dreadin, really—havin ta choose one, but you're sssuggestin pick one, be the bad boyfriend I'm sure to be, and in that way, you think she'll end it herself."
"Yeah, there're a lot of genius wizardz out an about that are shite in relationships. They're very eccentric and have their own quirks," Draco said, sitting back down. "You can easily fit that category. Just explain, 'Sorry my sweet baby-cakes. I'm a genius wanker who already has a purpose in life, and this is all I can offer to the relationship.'"
"For a contingency plan… that's not half bad," Harry remarked.
"And if that doesn't work you can always just cheat on her, get caught, then no one'll date you after that," Draco said, getting up. "Girls want to be the one and only, so cheating definitely works."
"Let's be clear heere, I'm never doing that, you asshat, so stop suggesting it," Harry leveled with a stern look of disapproval. "I-" Harry took a moment to swim through his lucidly addled thoughts. "I guess I have ta pick Daphne then."
"Why Daphne?"
"I don't wanna be a bad partner to any of em, but I jus met Daphne, so I'm not as... fond of her. It also helps that her high society upbringing and customs clash completely with me, makin it easier to end the relationship sooner rather than later. She also seems like the understanding type."
"Understanding maybe, but definitely not forgiving," Draco added. "Maybe Fleur would be better. I mean, she's leavin at the end of the year, she can get any guy she wants so it's unlikely that she'd be upset for more than a couple hours, if that. You can be sure I'll be there to comfort her in any way she needs, so I think she's a good choice."
"Ya- Ya know, I'm really startin ta get this feelin you're doing that thing that a bunch of mates do when they talk 'bout witches they all fancy," Harry stumbled to say to the silver-blond. "We ain't mates, Malfoy. Stop. That's friends territory and it's making me... uncomfret'able."
"No… Oh, Merlin, I think I drank too much," Draco shamefully admitted. "Don't… please believe tha I'll always hate you. I'm just sloshed is all. It's the alcohol, I promise."
"Yeah… yeah, okay," Harry agreed fearfully. "Yeah, I think, I think this is enough." Harry moved to the exit as he said, "I'll talk with Fleur first, if I have time."
"Talk to Fleur while Grrranger and Greengrass are on their sexy date," Draco slyly said, languidly keeping an unsteady pace with Harry. "Wouldn't it be great if they ended the night tonguin each other'ss love tunnels? Merlin, I'd sacrifice someone else's left arm to be naked between that."
"Ya know Malfoy," an annoyed Harry began to mention. "You ought'a remember in the not too distant future, Tracey'll come up ta me, because for some ungodly reason she likes a miserable prat like you, and she'll ask me to tell her all sorts of stories about you; your likes, and what nots. What do you think I'll say abou' my fake friend who says dumb shit like that about my actual friends? Cutesy stuff ya reckon? Maybe yer secret love of braiding your father's ridiculously long hair on warm summer nights? Or, or maybe yer handwoven baby booty collection fer tha sssseventeen children you absolutely plan on havin?"
The drunk Draco stared lamely at Harry for several moments before he expressed, "Ogdens always brought the devil out of me, Potter, I sssswear it. You see, all jokes aside, the important thing isss how much we rrrespect our witches fer their... minds? And refrain from ever debasing them down to simple receptacles for our sssexual gratificationsss. You undoubtedly know I'm a big believer in loving relationships, you know, right? Love of all forms, mate; wizard on wizard, witch on witch, monogamy, or polyga- poly- whatever, the other one. Jus- uh... just..."
"Howss it feel chokin on humble dick for a chang..." Harry paused mid-sentence, eyes blinking brightly as an idea raced to the forethought of his mind. "Well, dammit Draco, you turned out to be useful after all. I know wha I'mm goin to do."
Draco waved the modicum of praise away for more pressing concerns, "Yeah, yea, okay, but about Tracey..."
I wanted to work Goblins in since the beginning. I can't wait to bring about those plans :)
I wonder if any knows where I got that, "cause of, and solution to, all of life's problems." Hint: one of the best shows ever.
This is in no way an excuse, but if you notice a certain drop in quality, an off tempo/flow, it's primarily because any free time I had for writing was short and scattered here there throughout summer. I do apologize about that. I'd say in about two to three weeks, my work schedule will slow down to what it was during the spring season, so I can properly write with some semblance of cohesion again.
I'm always happy to know your thoughts, so leave a comment!
-Grae