Privileges Chapter Three

[dysonrules]

Nearly forgot to post this today. OMG I woke up ten minutes late and it has thrown off my entire day! *wails*

Harry returned to the castle long enough to roust Ron from bed in order to tell him that he planned to tour the village with Draco. Ron blinked at him with such incomprehension that Harry threw up his hands and went to awaken Hermione, instead. Of course, she was already awake and puttering around in the garden. By the time he located her, nearly half an hour had passed and Harry began to worry about leaving the blond alone in the stables. Hermione wished him well with a smirk and Harry bolted for the stable, slowing as he approached so it would not look as though he had hurried.

Draco was nowhere in sight. Dobby stood in his usual place in the stall, unsaddled, and Kreacher bared his teeth angrily as Harry walked past. Fuck. Had Draco fled? A banging sound drew Harry’s attention to an alcove that held a rack of saddles. The thumping grew louder as Harry approached and he spied a blond head in the corner with a mixture of trepidation and relief.

The prince had been tied up with several lengths of rope. What looked to be a makeshift saddle had been strapped to his back. A horse’s bridle had been wrapped around his head with the bit cruelly jammed between his teeth, bound tightly so that he could not dislodge it. His silver eyes glared balefully as Harry knelt to quickly untie him.

Draco spat the metal out with a snarl and gagged for a moment or two while Harry tore at the bonds around his arms and legs.

“Who did this to you?” Harry demanded.

“Fucking ginger hellions!” Draco growled. “I’ll have their bloody heads on a pike!” He thrashed angrily, yanking the ropes out of Harry’s hands.

“Hold still! I can’t untie you when you’re struggling.”

“I should not be tied at all, Tensbury! What kind of damned country faire are you running here? Are you in charge of this rabble or not?”

Thankfully, the knots parted and Harry stepped back to allow the angry prince room to shake free of his bonds. “The twins are young,” Harry explained lamely. “And their father is often away. They have little guidance.”

“That is no excuse. Where are they? I will thrash them to within an inch of their lives! I’ll have them drawn and quartered!”

“Seeing how they have fled and my horse is yet unsaddled, their punishment will have to wait for another day. You will saddle your horse and accompany me. I have not the time to chase down youngsters to avenge your abused sensibilities. If anyone should be thrashed it should be you for neglecting your duties.”

“Neglecting my duties?” Draco all but shrieked. Harry spun on a heel and snagged his saddle on the way out of the room. He was not in the mood for a tirade from his new squire and vowed to ignore the ranting blond.

“Take a saddle and make haste. I am already later than planned.”

As expected, Draco kept up an irate string of complaints, but he did manage to saddle Kreacher without much assistance, although Harry had to adjust the straps on the saddle in order to keep it from sliding off. Harry saddled Dobby himself, even though it had been some time since he had saddled his own steed. Ron generally took care of Harry’s squire chores, more from a need for something to do than any sense of duty.

They departed without further incident and rode northwest, heading toward the village just out of sight from the castle. After riding for a short time, Harry reached into his saddle pack and pulled out a cloth-wrapped parcel. He handed it to Draco, who took it with a suspicious glare.

“Molly insisted I give that to you,” Harry said and kneed Dobby forward. When he glanced back later, he was pleased to see the prince greedily devouring the last of the bread and cheese. He made a mental note to thank Molly later. Hopefully the sustenance would improve his squire’s mood slightly.

“Why are we going to the village?” Draco asked.

“It’s my responsibility. I want to see if the villagers need anything.”

Draco made a scoffing noise. “If you ask them what they need, they will drive you spare with requests. Better to ask what they can do for you.”

Harry smiled at him. “I’ll take it under advisement.”

Draco apparently took him seriously and said nothing more. Harry’s brief moment of concern over Draco’s riding skill had been quickly alleviated. Kreacher snorted and bucked frequently, but Draco’s seat was sure his hand was firm on the reins. Harry was reluctantly impressed.

The village was quiet, not because of the early hour, but by reason of the harvest. Most of the residents were in the fields bringing in the crops.

“Very nice, Tensbury,” Draco said as they dismounted. “You’ve brought us to a deserted village.”

Harry let Dobby drink from the spring in the centre of town. The sun had risen fully as they rode and it seemed the day would turn out quite warm.

An old woman tottered out to meet them, surrounded by a veritable sea of children. The kids immediately swarmed around the horses, tempting fate by straying near Kreacher’s angry hooves. Harry warned them away sharply.

“Lord Tensbury!” the old woman cried.

“Hello, Astoria,” Harry said warmly. “How are you, today?”

“Don’t fash yerself fer an old ‘un like me, Sir Blackfell,” she said and cackled. “And thank ye for the cloth.”

Harry felt rather than saw Draco’s disapproving stare, but he ignored it. When he had inherited the castle, he had discovered a huge storage room filled with fabric, leather, wool and assorted other goods, far too many to be of use to him and the other residents of the keep.

“I am glad you could put it to good use, Astoria.” Harry’s response was curtailed by a loud shout from the western track that led out of town. A teenaged lad pelted along the road. Dust rose from his feet with the speed of his gait. “Help!” he cried.

Harry hurried to meet him and the boy clutched at his arms with both hands, gasping wildly for breath. His eyes were terrified. “Lord… Lord Tensbury! Thanks be… oh praise the saints!”

“What is it? What’s wrong?” Harry could not remember the boy’s name. Cormac?

“Raiders! Raiders, my lord! From the river!”

Harry ran back to Dobby and leaped into the saddle. Without a word, he sent the horse galloping down the road. He glanced over and was glad to see Draco racing Kreacher next to him. The prince grinned. “We fight?” Draco yelled.

“Yes, we fight!” Harry bellowed back and then laughed. For some reason, he had expected the man to be somewhat squeamish in battle. He revised his opinion of the blond, slightly.

Harry had heard tales of the raiders from the villagers during his last visit. Apparently they would travel upriver by boat and steal anything they could grab—including young women. Harvest time was a favourite because they would snatch as many foodstuffs as they could carry.

The ride was thankfully short and several heavily-laden men were visible in the distance when Harry and Draco topped a rise that allowed them a view of the rolling farmland that bordered the river. A few peasants were trying to fight the bandits, armed only with harvesting tools or wooden staves. One of the peasants was down, bleeding heavily from a leg wound.

Harry counted quickly; there were ten raiders. For a moment he questioned the wisdom of charging into battle with only Prince Draco at his side, but there was no hesitation from his companion. Harry ran down the first bandit, who dropped his ill-gotten gains and pulled out a sword—too late, as Dobby’s shoulder sent him to the ground. The second managed to bring up his sword and counter Harry’s blow, but he could not duck Draco’s. Harry did not pause to watch him fall as he charged after a third man.

The raider was quicker than the other two and took cover behind a tree while shouting orders. He seemed to want the others to band together and fight, but the farmers attacked with renewed vigour. Dobby reared as the man stabbed at him from behind the tree trunk.

A loud bellow drew Harry’s attention as Dobby pranced sideways. Prince Draco threw himself from Kreacher with a roar and bowled over a raider. Harry gasped at him in disbelief. Had he gone mad? King Lucius would have Harry put to death if his idiot son died in an attack from simple reavers!

To Harry’s relief, Draco leaped to his feet gracefully and skewered the man. Harry turned back to his own opponent just in time to parry a sword blow. From the corner of his eye, he saw another raider creeping up on Draco, unseen by the blond. Harry abandoned his assailant and spurred Dobby toward the prince.

Harry’s heart was in his throat when he realized he would not reach Draco in time. He urged the horse faster while bellowing loudly at the prince. Miraculously, the blond turned as if warned by some sixth sense, since he seemed to be steadfastly ignoring Harry. The raider was almost upon him, but Draco twisted and deflected what would have been a killing strike. Harry watched in awe as the prince toyed with the man—for toying it most definitely was—until the raider turned and fled, pursued by the vengeful blond.

Harry galloped after him again and caught up to the panting prince just as he gave up the chase. Draco shook his sword after the fleeing reaver. “Coward!” he yelled.

He grinned up at Harry. “Excellent outing,” he said.

Harry found himself smiling back. “You’re insane.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “Are we pursuing them or not? My lord?”

Harry fetched Draco’s horse and they pounded after the raiders, who had reached their boats and fled. Harry frowned as he watched them float away on the current. He had little doubt they would be back.

~~ O ~~

Draco was exhausted by the time they returned to the castle. Tensbury had insisted on chatting with every bloody peasant on the earth and then wasted valuable harvesting time asking their opinions on defence against the raiders. Draco had rolled his eyes and dozed off, although he had to admit that some of Tensbury’s ideas were rather good. When the talks were concluded and the farmers had been prodded back to the fields where they belonged, Sir Blackfell finally headed for the castle. Draco wanted nothing more than a hot bath and a soft bed. Such was not to be.

“See to the horses,” Tensbury said curtly when they reached the stables. “I’ll expect them fed and groomed properly, so feel free to seek assistance from one of the boys. Do not, however, force them to perform the task for you.” Sir Blackfell’s voice was like iron. Draco glared. He had nearly forgotten he was supposed to be a lowly squire.

He watched angrily as Lord Tensbury left the stables, likely heading for a hot bath and a warm meal, the wretch. Draco managed to remove the saddles from the horses, but threw them aside, having no intention of dragging the smelly things all the way to the tack room. Tensbury had said nothing about putting the tack away—he had merely told Draco to feed and groom the horses.

Two small boys—not the bloody ginger-haired menaces from that morning—appeared and cheerfully helped Draco with the basics of horse grooming. One of them poured grain into the bins for Dobby and Kreacher and then tossed in a measure of hay. Even though he was nearly ready to faint from hunger and exhaustion, Draco found the task of brushing the soft fur of the steeds to be strangely satisfying. The rhythmic sound of them chewing their grain was almost soothing.

The boys put away the saddles and brushes when Draco had finished. He bid them a pleasant good eventide and dragged himself back to the castle. The Great Hall seemed to be in an uproar. It was filled with men drinking and tearing into great hunks of fowl and dark bread. Though far from Draco’s usual fare, his mouth watered at the sight and scent of it. He was famished.

Despite the crowd, his eyes sought out the dark figure of Tensbury, who sat properly at the head of the table, for once. Incredibly, he looked straight at Draco and beckoned. Draco frowned, but obediently walked to Sir Blackfell’s side. The redhead, whose name Draco had quite forgotten, sat at Tensbury’s right and the frizzy-haired woman was to the left. Blackfell gestured and the red-haired fellow budged over with obvious reluctance to make room for Draco, who frowned, but sat willingly enough.

His eyes travelled over the newcomers, obviously part of the garrison sent by Draco’s father to serve Lord Tensbury. Draco recognized none of them, so they would have no idea that he was anything other than Sir Blackfell’s loyal squire.

One of them narrowed his eyes. “You allow your servants to dine with you, Sir Blackfell? How quaint.”

Blackfell only smiled. “I would have very little company if I sat only with my peers. Most of the time it is quite empty here, and shall be again tomorrow once you and your men go out on patrol.”

“I meant no offense,” the man said gruffly, but his tone said otherwise. Draco’s hackles rose immediately, although he was somewhat surprised at his sudden urge to defend his new overlord.

“What is your name?” Draco demanded of the man, meaning to make a note and have the bastard demoted if he became a problem. Captain of the Guard he might be, but that could change with a single word to Draco’s father. The man’s thick brows rose sharply and Blackfell gasped beside him.

“Draco, you must not question a knight of the realm in such a fashion!” Tensbury hissed, but it was too late.

“You seem to have little control over your underlings, Sir Blackfell,” the captain said in a vicious tone. “Perhaps you should beat some manners into the lad.”

“How I treat my servants is no business of yours, Sir Davies.”

“I beg to differ, my lord. If I—and my men—are to work for you, then it would behove us to know that your servants will obey orders.”

“Draco will obey orders,” Tensbury replied angrily.

“Will he?” Davies asked. He lifted his pewter goblet and shook it. “Boy, fetch me some wine.”

Draco’s eyes narrowed. Several of Davies’ men followed suit, raising their drinking vessels with cries of, “Wine!”

Draco heard Blackfell swear and then he said, “Get them their damned wine. Restrain your temper and do the chore quickly.” Draco glared at him and Blackfell’s fingers gripped his arm tightly. “Remember not who you are, but who you are supposed to be.”