CHAINS OF EARTH CHAPTER FIVE (PT ONE)
Mar. 19th, 2010 06:50 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dysonrulesThis chapter is another two parter, because it's 10k. O__O
A billion and ten thanks to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
alaana_fair for coding this monster in HTML. She is made of awesome.
Chapter Five
It is often safer to be in chains than to be free.
- Franz Kafka
Harry brooded on his bed for only a few minutes before persistent tapping on his window drew his attention. He swore loudly and grumbled as he got to his feet. “This day is getting better and better.” It was Pigwidgeon, Ron’s owl. Harry was somewhat surprised by the sedate pecking—normally the damned thing threw itself repeatedly against the glass like a deranged hummingbird. He wondered if Ron had taken to exchanging Pig’s water with Calming Draught.
Harry let the owl inside and managed to detach the message from its leg with some difficulty as Pig started sailing around the room like a spastic top the instant Harry let him inside. Apparently he had merely needed to rest on the windowsill for seventeen seconds. Harry unrolled the parchment carefully, half expecting it to explode in his face. He never knew quite what to expect from Ron these days. The message was surprisingly friendly.
Harry, I’ve been a complete arse and would like to make it up to you. Meet me in Byrne’s Park. I promise not to behave like a total prat. I’m bringing Ginny with me and she has agreed to hex me if I start to act inappropriately. Ron
Harry sighed, but he could not contain the flare of hope that surged through him at the thought of reconciliation. He had insisted for so long that Ron would snap out of it and go back to being his normal self, or at least a reasonable facsimile thereof. Hermione had refused to hear it. Harry had been fooled a few times by Ron’s behaviour. On rare occasions he had managed to act like the Ron of old, but it seldom lasted. This was the first time he had requested to meet Harry away from the Burrow. Harry thought it might be the first time Ron had left the Burrow. He decided it was a positive development.
He quickly changed into street clothes, since the robes he had donned to visit Malfoy were a bit formal, as well as inappropriate for the weather. He sent a quick owl to Hermione and wondered how long she could remain at Malfoy Manor without wanting to murder Draco. Deciding Malfoy’s safety wasn’t his problem, he Apparated to Byrne’s Park, vaguely recalling it from a case he had worked some months ago.
Harry meandered around for a bit—the park was not huge, but it had several concealing stands of snow-dusted shrubs and hedges. After a few minutes, he spotted Ron sitting on a bench next to Ginny. Ron threw conjured bits of bread to the ducks that splashed in the nearby pond. He smiled broadly when he saw Harry.
“Oi, mate!” he called and lifted a hand.
Harry grinned and hurried over to take his hand in a joyous grip. “Ron, it’s good to see you…” He nearly added “out of doors” but managed to choke it back, unsure if Ron would appreciate the reminder of his self-imposed exile now that he had finally emerged.
“Huh, surprised you can say that after how I treated you at our last get-together. I acted like a right arse. Sometimes I don’t know what comes over me.”
“Well, you were pretty drunk,” Harry said lamely.
“Yeah, but that’s no excuse, eh?” Ron said quietly.
Harry shrugged, unwilling to get into a blame game. Ginny smiled at him as he sat down next to Ron. The sun was low on the horizon, sliding beneath the dark clouds for a few moments prior to its disappearance for the night. It was nearly too cold to sit—one of them had apparently cast a Warming Charm on the bench, which helped. Harry wished he had worn gloves.
Ginny stood up. “Harry, will you walk with me? I want to talk to you.”
“Going to talk about me behind my back?” Ron asked with just a hint of his usual bitterness.
“Not everything is about you, Ronald,” Ginny snapped.
Ron flushed. “Yeah, okay. Sorry.”
She stalked away a few paces and Harry gave Ron an apologetic look before he got to his feet and followed. She walked until they were out of earshot and then grinned at him ruefully. “Actually, it is about Ron.”
Harry chuckled. “All right. How did you manage to coax him out of the house? He’s been locked away for months.”
“It was mum. She’s driving him batty. Frankly, I’m surprised he lasted as long as he did. Her constant fussing is getting to him, which is a good thing, in my opinion. I’m glad he finally chose to come outside.”
“Maybe he’s beginning to heal?” Harry asked hopefully. “Mentally, I mean.”
She nodded and shot a glance back at her brother, who threw bread to the ducks listlessly. He looked very small and alone. Harry’s heart ached for a moment, knowing it was not supposed to be this way. Ron was supposed to have been his partner in the Auror Division. They were supposed to battle evil together and go to pubs after work. They were supposed to share stories and complain about bosses and bureaucracy.
“I wish things were different,” Harry said.
“So do I,” Ginny replied and Harry knew she was no longer talking about Ron.
Harry flushed. “Look, Gin, we’ve been over this before…”
“I know, Harry, and I know I said I wouldn’t bring it up again, but I feel like you never really gave us a chance. I thought we were doing fine until this thing with Ron happened. I thought seeing me reminded you of Ron and how guilty you felt, but you can see for yourself that Ron is healing now. I want to know if you think there is a chance for us to heal, also. Can’t you give us one more go? At least try? Don’t you think you owe me that much?”
Harry felt his jaw clench. Truthfully, his feelings for Ginny had little to do with Ron’s accident. Harry had begun to withdraw from her before the incident with Ron, although the accident had caused such a rift in all of their relationships it was understandable for her to lay the blame there. It was not just Ron that had been broken in the accident; their entire foursome had been completely sundered. Not only had Ron and Harry been torn apart, but also Ron and Hermione, Harry and Ginny, and finally Ginny’s friendship with Hermione. It seemed they had all chosen sides, whether consciously or unconsciously.
Put on the spot by her earnest brown eyes, he felt the words choke up inside him. He hated to get into it with her now, of all times, when they should be concentrating on Ron. Harry pasted a smile on his face.
“I’ll think about it, Gin,” he allowed.
Her eyes flashed slightly and he tensed for the expected anger to emerge, but she surprised him with a smile he knew was forced. “All right, Harry. I don’t mean to push you. You already know how I feel.”
He nodded, relieved to have avoided a confrontation. She threw her arms around his neck suddenly and pressed a kiss against his lips. He hugged her awkwardly and wondered where his feelings had gone. He had loved her once, hadn’t he? Now he felt nothing but a brotherly sort of affection.
“Come on, let’s get back to Ron before he starts to feel neglected,” he said. She sighed and stepped away before they retraced their steps. The path had been mostly cleared of snow, but a sheen of ice made walking hazardous. Ginny’s foot slipped and she grabbed Harry’s arm. He steadied her carefully and she kept her hand on his arm as they returned to Ron. The park was in a wizarding neighborhood, but it was not popular enough to warrant year-round Heating Charms to keep the paths ice-free.
Ron grinned at Harry. “You two getting back together?” he asked, eyeing Ginny’s grip on Harry.
“He’s going to think about it,” Ginny said in a tone that carried a hint of accusation.
Ron guffawed. “Oh, come on, mate, what’s to think about? It’s obvious she still has the hots for you.”
Harry scowled. “I have no intention of discussing my love life while freezing my arse off. What possessed you to choose this place, anyway? Why not a heated building with a nice, crackling fire and warmed butterbeer?”
“I needed some fresh air,” Ron admitted. “Been cooped up too long. Mum is probably going spare looking for me. I wanted to go somewhere she wouldn’t find me all that soon. She acts like I’m five years old again.”
“You didn’t tell her you were leaving?” Harry asked and then gave a low whistle. “You’re brave, mate. You know she worries too much.” He wouldn’t want to be in Ron’s shoes when Molly Weasley caught up with him.
“Yeah, it’s okay sometimes, but other times…”
Harry chuckled. “I remember. Did you at least leave her a note?”
“Of course. I told her I was going somewhere Muggle so she wouldn’t send me a Patronus. That was Gin’s idea.”
Ginny smiled and clutched Harry’s arm tighter. “I’m with Harry on finding somewhere warm. We could go to my place?”
“Won’t mum have it staked out?” Ron asked dubiously.
“Naturally, but she’ll have looked there first, yeah? It should be safe now.”
Ron looked at Harry owlishly. “She could have been in Slytherin, mate.”
Harry grinned and nodded, but it was one of the reasons he had finally broken it off with Ginny. Her unexpected deviousness had reared its head a time or two. Harry had discovered he hated to be manipulated. The memory caused him to wonder if she had set up this whole meeting just as an excuse to get Harry into her flat, but decided Ron would never go along with it. Unless he didn’t know…
“I’m up for it,” Ron said. “As long as you have ale.”
She made a face. “Don’t you think you’ve had more than enough to drink lately, Ron?”
His face flamed and he scowled at her. “I left the house to get away from mum, remember?”
“Well, excuse me for worrying about you!” she yelled.
“I’ll come along, for a bit,” Harry said quickly to head off another sibling shouting match. Ginny left off glaring at Ron to smile at him.
“Excellent. I’ll let you Side-Along Ronald,” she said and Disapparated.
Harry looked at Ron awkwardly, unsure how to proceed. Should he try to stand him up, or Apparate while sitting next to him?
Ron sighed. “She’s really irked with you, isn’t she?”
“Yeah, still irked,” Harry said blandly.
In the end, Harry sat down next to Ron and threw an arm around his shoulders while conjuring an image of the sofa in Ginny’s flat, hoping to hell she hadn’t moved it since his last visit.
“I’ll make us something to eat,” Ginny said brightly and traipsed off to the kitchen, which was in sight of the living room. Harry and Ron ended up on the couch just as planned, which had caused Ron to snort in amusement and mutter something about “Super Auror”, but Harry did not comment.
Ginny clanked dishes about and Harry was slightly worried, hoping she did not plan to cook anything, because the apple had fallen far from the tree when it came to Ginny’s cooking skills. Her abilities were nothing like Molly Weasley’s. Hopefully she would scrape up sandwiches or pasties, or Harry might be forced to seek out Hermione afterward for a decent meal.
As if picking the name from his thoughts, Ron suddenly asked, “How is Hermione?”
“She’s fine,” Harry said casually although he tensed inwardly. Hermione was a touchy subject.
“She hasn’t answered any of my owls,” Ron complained.
“We seem to have a talent for irritating the women in our lives,” Harry said lightly.
“Yeah, but Gin’s still talking to you.”
Lucky me, thought Harry dryly. Aloud he said, “Hermione is… well, you know how stubborn she can be.”
Ron snorted. “Yeah. Look, can you talk to her or something? At least tell her to read my letters? I’m trying to change. It’s just been hard, you know?”
“I know. I promise I’ll talk to her. I think she’ll be glad you’re finally getting out a bit.”
Ron’s jaw twitched as though he struggled to bite back a comment, but he said nothing for a moment. “What has she been doing? Still working? Where is she today?”
Harry blinked at him and stumbled through an answer. “She’s been working a lot, actually. It’s pretty much all she does, you know? She loves her job. I’m… ah… not sure where she is right now…” That was true; she might have left Malfoy Manor already. “I haven’t talked to her in a while.” A couple of hours or so, at any rate. Harry tried not to blush at skirting the truth, but Ron would not take kindly to the fact that Hermione was trying to assist Draco Malfoy, of all people.
“Really? I thought you two were still best friends. I sort of figured one of the reasons you dumped Ginny was to…”
Harry gaped at him. “You thought I wanted Hermione?”
Ron flushed and combed a hand through his red hair. “Well… maybe it was a stupid thought…”
“You’re damn right it was a stupid thought!” Harry said, momentarily forgetting that he had no intention of fighting with Ron again.
“Why? What’s wrong with Hermione?” Ron demanded, jumping to her defence.
“Nothing! I just never… thought of her that way.”
“Thought of who what way?” Ginny asked as she returned to the room holding a plate piled high with an assortment of meat pies. Her other hand gripped three full mugs of something Harry hoped was ale. He could use a drink, which usually happened when he spoke to Ron these days.
“Harry said he hasn’t been pursuing Hermione,” Ron said.
“Hermione?” Ginny exclaimed and gasped. She stared at Harry as though the thought had never occurred to her. She narrowed her gaze at him, possibly trying to pierce through any façade Harry tried to project. “Well. That’s an interesting idea. You certainly have no problem spending time with her, do you? Are you certain you’ve never thought of her that way, Harry?”
Harry’s teeth clamped together in annoyance. He had half expected the gathering to turn into a personal attack by one or the other of them, so he was not surprised, but he was disappointed. He got to his feet.
“I appreciate the offer, Gin, but I should probably be going,” he said.
Ron’s eyes narrowed. “Leaving so soon, Harry? It’s not like you to run away. Maybe that hit a bit to close to the truth, eh?”
“You know what, Ron? I’m glad you finally left the Burrow. It’s about time you stopped hiding away from the world. Maybe next you’ll try working on not acting like such a fucking prat all the time.” Harry pulled out his wand and looked at Ginny semi-apologetically. “Sorry, Ginny. Thanks for the offer of food, but I’m not that hungry at the moment. I’ll talk to you later.”
Harry Disapparated, but Ron’s final comment echoed in his head as he left.
“Coward!”
~~ O ~~
Harry went home and threw himself into a frenzy of housework. Kreacher followed him around offering helpful tips, but doing little in the way of actually assisting, which suited Harry fine. His agitation often took refuge in manual labour, which Grimmauld Place still sorely needed. Kreacher had become a decent cook, but his cleaning skills were extremely substandard. Harry normally kept only the kitchen, living room, and his own room clean. The rest of the house he saved for days when he needed to work off excess anger.
The study was soon free of dust and the floor gleamed, as did the hallway that led to the stairs. A seldom-used ground floor guest room was given the same treatment—the majority of the debris had been hauled out during the summer of Molly Weasley’s reign, but dust still accumulated, as did the old-house smell that Harry could never quite dispel even after dozens of Air-freshening Charms.
Two hours later Harry was tired, hungry, and filthy. He took a scalding shower and felt much better after tossing on a pair of jeans and a clean t-shirt. He dragged a comb through his hair as he examined his pantry. A rather pathetic sight met his eyes and he realized he had not purchased food in a number of days.
Kreacher appeared at Harry’s elbow. “Master is wanting dinner?” Kreacher asked and wrung his hands slightly, making Harry wince.
“Apparently Master has not provided you with enough staples to even prepare sandwiches,” Harry said dryly. “Did you eat today?”
“Yes, Master. Kreacher has been eating the fine aubergines and cabbages that Master purchased just for Kreacher.” The house-elf paused. “Is Master wanting aubergines and cabbages? Kreacher can be making a fine stew for Master Harry’s supper. Kreacher is also finding several potatoes and Kreacher can be cutting out the dark spots.”
Harry tried not to shudder. He had stocked up heavily on aubergines, cabbage, and winter squash after discovering they were Kreacher’s favourite foods, but Harry could not abide them. He was relieved that at least his house-elf had sustenance… of a sort. “No thank you, Kreacher. I wouldn’t dream of eating your aubergines and cabbages. I think I’ll just nip out and pick something up. I’ll be sure to stock the pantry tomorrow so that you will be able to prepare a meal without resorting to cutting out the black spots from the potatoes.”
Kreacher looked relieved and he nodded happily. “Master knows best.”
“Goodnight, Kreacher,” Harry said and Summoned his cloak. Kreacher popped out, but returned a moment later with Harry’s socks and boots and helped him put them on. Gloves followed and Harry grinned at the old house-elf before Disapparating to Diagon Alley. He wandered aimlessly for several long minutes, but the thought of braving the crowds to eat in a public place seemed too exhausting to contemplate. He thought about going to see Hermione, but remembered that he was annoyed with her. There was also the fact that he had been eating too many meals at her house lately.
He stopped in front of the public owlery and realized he had simply been making excuses. What he really wanted to do was go and see Malfoy. Only because I forgot to mention the Glamour Spell, he rationalized. And he wanted to make sure that both Malfoy and Hermione had survived the afternoon in each other’s company. He quickly returned home and Fire-called Malfoy Manor.
Eight minutes later he stepped out of the fire and grinned sheepishly into Malfoy’s amused visage.
“Twice in one day, Potter? Don’t I feel special?”
Harry snorted. “I doubt that. I just forgot to tell you something when I was here earlier.”
“When you stormed off in a childish huff?” Malfoy asked.
Harry almost smiled. The familiarity of Malfoy’s sarcasm was like a balm to his wounded soul.
“Yes, well, I simply forgot to mention—”
“That you have a strange fetish for feathers and want to wrap your naked body in my ridiculous wings?”
The statement was so close to the truth that Harry nearly choked. He coughed for a moment or two while he glared at the Slytherin.
“Very funny,” Harry snapped and tried to regain his composure. He was somewhat surprised at Malfoy’s good mood and wondered if the blond had ever joked with him before. Granted, the jokes were barbed and insulting, but nevertheless… “Look,” he continued, “If you don’t want to hear it, then I can come back tomorrow. It wasn’t important, anyway.” He stepped back toward the fireplace and realized it had been a particularly wretched day. Harry thought he should simply go home and go straight to bed. Before he could reach for the jar of Floo Powder, his stomach growled loudly.
~~ O ~~
“When was the last time you ate, Potter?” Draco asked quickly, suddenly almost desperate to keep him from leaving. He wasn’t sure why the Auror was here, but he intended to hold on to his company for as long as possible. He forced a sneer into his voice. “Do you even have food in your house?”
“I have food,” Potter snapped and Draco shuddered to think what might be considered food in the Potter household. Probably days-old Muggle takeaway. Draco was not quite sure what that was, but he had overheard Hogwarts students discussing it in passing and he knew it had to be foul.
“Stay then,” Draco said casually. “It must be terribly important to drag you all the way out here, away from your busy social life.”
Potter flushed and for a moment Draco thought he might have gone too far. He was curious, however. Surely the Auror had better things to do? “I insist we eat in the dining room, however. Mother will tear the wings from my back if she finds a crumb on the carpet. Not that that would necessarily be a bad thing.”
Potter’s hand dropped away from the mantle and he looked at Draco curiously. “Have you considered it?” he asked bluntly. “Having them removed, I mean?”
Draco snorted. “Of course I have. I even considered sawing them off myself. If only I weren’t so damned squeamish about excruciating pain.”
“But St. Mungo’s…”
“Delightful idea, Potter. I’ll turn myself over to that lot of anti-Death Eater sentimentalists and ask them to knock me out and remove my new appendages. Oh, and request they don’t accidentally kill me in the process.” Potter flushed and Draco continued, “Besides, what if I go through all of that and they grow back?”
Potter nodded and Draco made an imperious gesture. He turned, automatically expecting Potter to follow as he went out the door and down the hall. Footsteps behind him divulged that Potter had obediently trailed him instead of fleeing.
When they reached the dining room, Potter’s eyes widened and his nose wrinkled slightly. Draco looked around the room, trying to see it through Potter’s eyes. The dining room was a cold, austere affair. Draco had never liked eating in here and he felt a moment of uncertainty. Perhaps he should have had their meal brought to the conservatory, instead. He made a mental note to do so next time and then chastised himself for even considering a ‘next time.’
Potter dutifully sat down in a hard, high-backed chair. Draco sat across from him, although he perched on a cushioned settee that had been pulled up to the table. He grinned at Potter.
“Chairs interfere with my wings,” he explained with a hint of smugness. “I am therefore privileged to sit on a comfortable seat.”
“Where can I borrow a pair of those?” Potter asked dryly and then blanched. Draco’s jaw tightened slightly. Potter might be a trifle more suave now, but he still had the uncanny ability to say the wrong thing. Draco decided to let the comment go.
“Maybe if you’re a good little Auror, I’ll let you sit on a pillow next time,” he replied tartly. Thankfully, the house-elves chose that moment to appear and place food on the table—enough plates, bowls, and platters to feed a legion.
Potter ate as though it was the first feast he’d had since leaving school. Draco plied the Auror with plenty of expensive red wine. There were questions he wanted to ask the Gryffindor and answers would be more readily forthcoming after a bit of alcoholic inducement. Potter had surprisingly good manners. He used the proper forks for each course and sipped the wine rather than gulping it. Draco wondered where he had learned to eat in a civilized fashion. Granger, probably. The Ministry would not have appreciated their Golden Boy embarrassing them at public functions and important state dinners.
Before the dessert course arrived, Potter swirled the wine in his glass and grinned at him. “I shouldn’t be drinking. Technically, I’m here in an official capacity.”
“I’ll never tell,” Draco purred and was surprised when Potter’s brows shot upward and disappeared into the thatch of dark hair. Potter did gulp his wine then, and coughed when it went down wrong. Interesting reaction, Draco noted and filed it away for later analysis. Surely Potter did not think Draco would tattle on him to the bloody Ministry? Perhaps the hero had simply had too much to drink.
“So, Potter, what important bit of forgetfulness brings you here this evening?”
Potter set the glass down with obvious relief. Before he could speak, the house-elves reappeared with several puddings as well as Potter’s favourite: treacle tart. The Auror waited until the house-elves disappeared again before speaking, although he did tuck his fork into the sticky confection.
“It’s regarding a variant of a Glamour Charm. I might need your help with the case and I can hardly have that with you closeted in the Manor.”
Draco scowled to hide his amazement that the Auror Extraordinaire might actually request his “help”. “What variant?”
“Well, a Glamour works only on a small area. The larger the field, the more unstable the spell and the shorter its duration,” Potter explained and Draco nodded. He refrained from commenting that he had learned about Glamour Charms in fourth year. Potter asked, “What do you use if you want to obscure a larger area?”
“You use a Disillusionment Charm.”
Potter smiled lazily and Draco was almost distracted by the slow curve of the Auror’s lips and the brief flash of fine white teeth before the Auror’s next question snapped him out of it. “And if you combine them?” he asked in a teasing tone.
“Can you?” Draco asked in surprise.
Potter shrugged. “I’ve been working on it for a while. I think I’ve come up with a variant. I’ve been trying to mimic the effect of my invisibility cloak. You know that Disillusionment Charms are only good on certain minds. If someone expects to be followed, they’ll see right through a Disillusionment. Those with resistance to the Imperius Curse can also penetrate one.”
“That would be you,” Draco admitted. Potter was the only person Draco had ever met that could shake an Imperius.
Potter raised a brow at the unintended compliment. Draco looked away.
“Not just me,” Potter said modestly and laughed.
They were silent after that, focusing on dessert while watching each other warily. If anyone had told Draco a few weeks ago that he would soon be having a pleasant meal with Harry Potter, he would have laughed himself silly.
When they finished eating, Draco led the way upstairs. He was somewhat hesitant to take Potter to his rooms, but the Auror had already been there on his first visit. Besides, Draco would only allow him to occupy the sitting room. Potter would likely not even know it was part of Draco’s private suite.
Potter’s eyes flicked to the door leading to Draco’s bedroom and he knew the Auror had figured it out. The bastard was smarter than he looked. If Draco was perfectly honest, he really didn’t look that bad, either. Draco shied away from the thought immediately.
“So,” Potter said brightly and brandished his wand. “Want me to try the spell on you?”
One glass of wine too many, Draco decided. “Are you daft? Have you even attempted this spell on another person?”
“Well, only on myself,” Potter admitted.
Draco rolled his eyes. Typical Gryffindor. No sense of personal safety. “Therefore you think I will allow you to experiment on me?” he asked. “I’m expendable after all, eh?”
Potter’s verdant eyes narrowed. “I’ve never thought that,” he said in a low voice that sounded genuinely angry.
Draco was surprised anew, but snorted. “Never, Potter? Not even in school?”
“I wanted to stop you, especially when I thought you were actively becoming a Death Eater, but I never wanted you dead. I did not even really want you hurt, except for a few times when you provoked me beyond tolerance.”
Draco’s hand went instinctively to his chest and Potter’s eyes widened at the reminder of the Sectumsempra scar, but it was gone now, burned away by the same process that had given Draco his wings.
“It’s gone,” he said.
“I noticed,” Potter replied quietly. “Before.”
An uncomfortable silence fell between them as Draco contemplated the fact that Potter was far more observant than expected. He also felt a strange sense of loss for the missing scar. It had been the only thing that tied him to Potter, regardless that it had been violently delivered. Draco had often drawn his fingers over the faint line of the scar and thought about the one on Potter’s forehead. Foolish as the idea had been, he had felt almost close to the Gryffindor at those times.
Potter looked almost stricken. Draco assumed he was about to spill some Hufflepuffish sentiment when a loud tapping sounded at the glass patio doors. Draco sighed, even though he was somewhat relieved by the distraction.
“Bloody owls. We have an owlery and the house-elves are perfectly adept at retrieving messages and bringing them to me.” He dragged back the heavy curtains to reveal a great grey owl. Draco flung open the patio door to admit the bird, which actually waddled into the room after giving him a disdainful look. It was a huge owl with gleaming yellow eyes.
Potter laughed when the owl walked to him and lifted a foot. “Hermione’s owl,” he explained, though he made no move to retrieve the message. “Erm… do you happen to have any owl treats? She bites.”
“Granger’s owl bites. Astounding,” Draco said dryly. He snapped his fingers and a house-elf appeared and then popped out again to seek out a treat for the animal.
“You know,” Potter said, “We tried to come up with a spell that would make parchment unnecessary. The message would be carried on the owl’s feathers in case of interception. It nearly worked. Hermione came up with a spell that can inscribe words on the feathers. They aren’t visible until the proper key is given to unlock the charm.”
“Clever,” Draco admitted.
“Yeah, except that each feather will only hold about two words. You have to cast the spell a dozen times to inscribe the message, and then when the counterspell is given the words are jumbled. Few of us had the patience to try and put the puzzle together.”
“It might be useful for a simple message,” Draco said politely and Potter nodded.
“We use it on occasion.”
The house-elf returned and Draco tossed a packet of owl nuggets to Potter, who knelt down before the wicked-looking owl.
“Here you go, Curie,” he said as he offered a treat to the bird. She snapped at it and Potter yanked his fingers back in the nick of time. He laughed hesitantly and reached down to gingerly to untie the message. Potter kept a close eye on the owl’s beak and Draco had a new respect for his bravery. The owl looked like a menace. Potter retreated a few steps in obvious relief when he had the message safely in his hands. “Bloody bird hates me,” he muttered and plucked at the red ribbon that bound the parchment.
Draco and the grey owl waited while Potter scanned the message. He grinned at Draco. “Fabulous news! Hermione might have found a lead on the potion! She wants me to come over so she can explain.” Potter paused and then asked, “Do you want to come? She’s waiting for me at her place.”
Draco sneered.
Potter made a clucking sound. “She’s already seen you. Come on, it will do you good to have a change of scenery.”
“Granger’s house is hardly the change I’ve been looking forward to.”
“She’s got a perfectly nice house. You’ll love it; it’s full of books.”
Draco’s eyes flicked to his own well-stuffed shelves and was surprised to find himself considering the notion. “How would we get there?” he asked uncertainly.
“Floo Network, since you’ve never been there. Unless you want to Side-along?”
The thought of Potter touching him again made Draco’s stomach clench in a not-unpleasant, but distinctly unwelcome way and he shook his head.
“All right, Floo it is. No return message, Curie.” Potter tossed the owl another treat and it hooted rather nastily before winging quickly out the door.
“Charming bird,” Draco commented and then led Potter back downstairs to the usual fireplace before he had time to change his mind.
CHAPTER FIVE PART TWO
A billion and ten thanks to
alaana_fair for coding this monster in HTML. She is made of awesome.Chapter Five
It is often safer to be in chains than to be free.
- Franz Kafka
Harry brooded on his bed for only a few minutes before persistent tapping on his window drew his attention. He swore loudly and grumbled as he got to his feet. “This day is getting better and better.” It was Pigwidgeon, Ron’s owl. Harry was somewhat surprised by the sedate pecking—normally the damned thing threw itself repeatedly against the glass like a deranged hummingbird. He wondered if Ron had taken to exchanging Pig’s water with Calming Draught.
Harry let the owl inside and managed to detach the message from its leg with some difficulty as Pig started sailing around the room like a spastic top the instant Harry let him inside. Apparently he had merely needed to rest on the windowsill for seventeen seconds. Harry unrolled the parchment carefully, half expecting it to explode in his face. He never knew quite what to expect from Ron these days. The message was surprisingly friendly.
Harry, I’ve been a complete arse and would like to make it up to you. Meet me in Byrne’s Park. I promise not to behave like a total prat. I’m bringing Ginny with me and she has agreed to hex me if I start to act inappropriately. Ron
Harry sighed, but he could not contain the flare of hope that surged through him at the thought of reconciliation. He had insisted for so long that Ron would snap out of it and go back to being his normal self, or at least a reasonable facsimile thereof. Hermione had refused to hear it. Harry had been fooled a few times by Ron’s behaviour. On rare occasions he had managed to act like the Ron of old, but it seldom lasted. This was the first time he had requested to meet Harry away from the Burrow. Harry thought it might be the first time Ron had left the Burrow. He decided it was a positive development.
He quickly changed into street clothes, since the robes he had donned to visit Malfoy were a bit formal, as well as inappropriate for the weather. He sent a quick owl to Hermione and wondered how long she could remain at Malfoy Manor without wanting to murder Draco. Deciding Malfoy’s safety wasn’t his problem, he Apparated to Byrne’s Park, vaguely recalling it from a case he had worked some months ago.
Harry meandered around for a bit—the park was not huge, but it had several concealing stands of snow-dusted shrubs and hedges. After a few minutes, he spotted Ron sitting on a bench next to Ginny. Ron threw conjured bits of bread to the ducks that splashed in the nearby pond. He smiled broadly when he saw Harry.
“Oi, mate!” he called and lifted a hand.
Harry grinned and hurried over to take his hand in a joyous grip. “Ron, it’s good to see you…” He nearly added “out of doors” but managed to choke it back, unsure if Ron would appreciate the reminder of his self-imposed exile now that he had finally emerged.
“Huh, surprised you can say that after how I treated you at our last get-together. I acted like a right arse. Sometimes I don’t know what comes over me.”
“Well, you were pretty drunk,” Harry said lamely.
“Yeah, but that’s no excuse, eh?” Ron said quietly.
Harry shrugged, unwilling to get into a blame game. Ginny smiled at him as he sat down next to Ron. The sun was low on the horizon, sliding beneath the dark clouds for a few moments prior to its disappearance for the night. It was nearly too cold to sit—one of them had apparently cast a Warming Charm on the bench, which helped. Harry wished he had worn gloves.
Ginny stood up. “Harry, will you walk with me? I want to talk to you.”
“Going to talk about me behind my back?” Ron asked with just a hint of his usual bitterness.
“Not everything is about you, Ronald,” Ginny snapped.
Ron flushed. “Yeah, okay. Sorry.”
She stalked away a few paces and Harry gave Ron an apologetic look before he got to his feet and followed. She walked until they were out of earshot and then grinned at him ruefully. “Actually, it is about Ron.”
Harry chuckled. “All right. How did you manage to coax him out of the house? He’s been locked away for months.”
“It was mum. She’s driving him batty. Frankly, I’m surprised he lasted as long as he did. Her constant fussing is getting to him, which is a good thing, in my opinion. I’m glad he finally chose to come outside.”
“Maybe he’s beginning to heal?” Harry asked hopefully. “Mentally, I mean.”
She nodded and shot a glance back at her brother, who threw bread to the ducks listlessly. He looked very small and alone. Harry’s heart ached for a moment, knowing it was not supposed to be this way. Ron was supposed to have been his partner in the Auror Division. They were supposed to battle evil together and go to pubs after work. They were supposed to share stories and complain about bosses and bureaucracy.
“I wish things were different,” Harry said.
“So do I,” Ginny replied and Harry knew she was no longer talking about Ron.
Harry flushed. “Look, Gin, we’ve been over this before…”
“I know, Harry, and I know I said I wouldn’t bring it up again, but I feel like you never really gave us a chance. I thought we were doing fine until this thing with Ron happened. I thought seeing me reminded you of Ron and how guilty you felt, but you can see for yourself that Ron is healing now. I want to know if you think there is a chance for us to heal, also. Can’t you give us one more go? At least try? Don’t you think you owe me that much?”
Harry felt his jaw clench. Truthfully, his feelings for Ginny had little to do with Ron’s accident. Harry had begun to withdraw from her before the incident with Ron, although the accident had caused such a rift in all of their relationships it was understandable for her to lay the blame there. It was not just Ron that had been broken in the accident; their entire foursome had been completely sundered. Not only had Ron and Harry been torn apart, but also Ron and Hermione, Harry and Ginny, and finally Ginny’s friendship with Hermione. It seemed they had all chosen sides, whether consciously or unconsciously.
Put on the spot by her earnest brown eyes, he felt the words choke up inside him. He hated to get into it with her now, of all times, when they should be concentrating on Ron. Harry pasted a smile on his face.
“I’ll think about it, Gin,” he allowed.
Her eyes flashed slightly and he tensed for the expected anger to emerge, but she surprised him with a smile he knew was forced. “All right, Harry. I don’t mean to push you. You already know how I feel.”
He nodded, relieved to have avoided a confrontation. She threw her arms around his neck suddenly and pressed a kiss against his lips. He hugged her awkwardly and wondered where his feelings had gone. He had loved her once, hadn’t he? Now he felt nothing but a brotherly sort of affection.
“Come on, let’s get back to Ron before he starts to feel neglected,” he said. She sighed and stepped away before they retraced their steps. The path had been mostly cleared of snow, but a sheen of ice made walking hazardous. Ginny’s foot slipped and she grabbed Harry’s arm. He steadied her carefully and she kept her hand on his arm as they returned to Ron. The park was in a wizarding neighborhood, but it was not popular enough to warrant year-round Heating Charms to keep the paths ice-free.
Ron grinned at Harry. “You two getting back together?” he asked, eyeing Ginny’s grip on Harry.
“He’s going to think about it,” Ginny said in a tone that carried a hint of accusation.
Ron guffawed. “Oh, come on, mate, what’s to think about? It’s obvious she still has the hots for you.”
Harry scowled. “I have no intention of discussing my love life while freezing my arse off. What possessed you to choose this place, anyway? Why not a heated building with a nice, crackling fire and warmed butterbeer?”
“I needed some fresh air,” Ron admitted. “Been cooped up too long. Mum is probably going spare looking for me. I wanted to go somewhere she wouldn’t find me all that soon. She acts like I’m five years old again.”
“You didn’t tell her you were leaving?” Harry asked and then gave a low whistle. “You’re brave, mate. You know she worries too much.” He wouldn’t want to be in Ron’s shoes when Molly Weasley caught up with him.
“Yeah, it’s okay sometimes, but other times…”
Harry chuckled. “I remember. Did you at least leave her a note?”
“Of course. I told her I was going somewhere Muggle so she wouldn’t send me a Patronus. That was Gin’s idea.”
Ginny smiled and clutched Harry’s arm tighter. “I’m with Harry on finding somewhere warm. We could go to my place?”
“Won’t mum have it staked out?” Ron asked dubiously.
“Naturally, but she’ll have looked there first, yeah? It should be safe now.”
Ron looked at Harry owlishly. “She could have been in Slytherin, mate.”
Harry grinned and nodded, but it was one of the reasons he had finally broken it off with Ginny. Her unexpected deviousness had reared its head a time or two. Harry had discovered he hated to be manipulated. The memory caused him to wonder if she had set up this whole meeting just as an excuse to get Harry into her flat, but decided Ron would never go along with it. Unless he didn’t know…
“I’m up for it,” Ron said. “As long as you have ale.”
She made a face. “Don’t you think you’ve had more than enough to drink lately, Ron?”
His face flamed and he scowled at her. “I left the house to get away from mum, remember?”
“Well, excuse me for worrying about you!” she yelled.
“I’ll come along, for a bit,” Harry said quickly to head off another sibling shouting match. Ginny left off glaring at Ron to smile at him.
“Excellent. I’ll let you Side-Along Ronald,” she said and Disapparated.
Harry looked at Ron awkwardly, unsure how to proceed. Should he try to stand him up, or Apparate while sitting next to him?
Ron sighed. “She’s really irked with you, isn’t she?”
“Yeah, still irked,” Harry said blandly.
In the end, Harry sat down next to Ron and threw an arm around his shoulders while conjuring an image of the sofa in Ginny’s flat, hoping to hell she hadn’t moved it since his last visit.
“I’ll make us something to eat,” Ginny said brightly and traipsed off to the kitchen, which was in sight of the living room. Harry and Ron ended up on the couch just as planned, which had caused Ron to snort in amusement and mutter something about “Super Auror”, but Harry did not comment.
Ginny clanked dishes about and Harry was slightly worried, hoping she did not plan to cook anything, because the apple had fallen far from the tree when it came to Ginny’s cooking skills. Her abilities were nothing like Molly Weasley’s. Hopefully she would scrape up sandwiches or pasties, or Harry might be forced to seek out Hermione afterward for a decent meal.
As if picking the name from his thoughts, Ron suddenly asked, “How is Hermione?”
“She’s fine,” Harry said casually although he tensed inwardly. Hermione was a touchy subject.
“She hasn’t answered any of my owls,” Ron complained.
“We seem to have a talent for irritating the women in our lives,” Harry said lightly.
“Yeah, but Gin’s still talking to you.”
Lucky me, thought Harry dryly. Aloud he said, “Hermione is… well, you know how stubborn she can be.”
Ron snorted. “Yeah. Look, can you talk to her or something? At least tell her to read my letters? I’m trying to change. It’s just been hard, you know?”
“I know. I promise I’ll talk to her. I think she’ll be glad you’re finally getting out a bit.”
Ron’s jaw twitched as though he struggled to bite back a comment, but he said nothing for a moment. “What has she been doing? Still working? Where is she today?”
Harry blinked at him and stumbled through an answer. “She’s been working a lot, actually. It’s pretty much all she does, you know? She loves her job. I’m… ah… not sure where she is right now…” That was true; she might have left Malfoy Manor already. “I haven’t talked to her in a while.” A couple of hours or so, at any rate. Harry tried not to blush at skirting the truth, but Ron would not take kindly to the fact that Hermione was trying to assist Draco Malfoy, of all people.
“Really? I thought you two were still best friends. I sort of figured one of the reasons you dumped Ginny was to…”
Harry gaped at him. “You thought I wanted Hermione?”
Ron flushed and combed a hand through his red hair. “Well… maybe it was a stupid thought…”
“You’re damn right it was a stupid thought!” Harry said, momentarily forgetting that he had no intention of fighting with Ron again.
“Why? What’s wrong with Hermione?” Ron demanded, jumping to her defence.
“Nothing! I just never… thought of her that way.”
“Thought of who what way?” Ginny asked as she returned to the room holding a plate piled high with an assortment of meat pies. Her other hand gripped three full mugs of something Harry hoped was ale. He could use a drink, which usually happened when he spoke to Ron these days.
“Harry said he hasn’t been pursuing Hermione,” Ron said.
“Hermione?” Ginny exclaimed and gasped. She stared at Harry as though the thought had never occurred to her. She narrowed her gaze at him, possibly trying to pierce through any façade Harry tried to project. “Well. That’s an interesting idea. You certainly have no problem spending time with her, do you? Are you certain you’ve never thought of her that way, Harry?”
Harry’s teeth clamped together in annoyance. He had half expected the gathering to turn into a personal attack by one or the other of them, so he was not surprised, but he was disappointed. He got to his feet.
“I appreciate the offer, Gin, but I should probably be going,” he said.
Ron’s eyes narrowed. “Leaving so soon, Harry? It’s not like you to run away. Maybe that hit a bit to close to the truth, eh?”
“You know what, Ron? I’m glad you finally left the Burrow. It’s about time you stopped hiding away from the world. Maybe next you’ll try working on not acting like such a fucking prat all the time.” Harry pulled out his wand and looked at Ginny semi-apologetically. “Sorry, Ginny. Thanks for the offer of food, but I’m not that hungry at the moment. I’ll talk to you later.”
Harry Disapparated, but Ron’s final comment echoed in his head as he left.
“Coward!”
Harry went home and threw himself into a frenzy of housework. Kreacher followed him around offering helpful tips, but doing little in the way of actually assisting, which suited Harry fine. His agitation often took refuge in manual labour, which Grimmauld Place still sorely needed. Kreacher had become a decent cook, but his cleaning skills were extremely substandard. Harry normally kept only the kitchen, living room, and his own room clean. The rest of the house he saved for days when he needed to work off excess anger.
The study was soon free of dust and the floor gleamed, as did the hallway that led to the stairs. A seldom-used ground floor guest room was given the same treatment—the majority of the debris had been hauled out during the summer of Molly Weasley’s reign, but dust still accumulated, as did the old-house smell that Harry could never quite dispel even after dozens of Air-freshening Charms.
Two hours later Harry was tired, hungry, and filthy. He took a scalding shower and felt much better after tossing on a pair of jeans and a clean t-shirt. He dragged a comb through his hair as he examined his pantry. A rather pathetic sight met his eyes and he realized he had not purchased food in a number of days.
Kreacher appeared at Harry’s elbow. “Master is wanting dinner?” Kreacher asked and wrung his hands slightly, making Harry wince.
“Apparently Master has not provided you with enough staples to even prepare sandwiches,” Harry said dryly. “Did you eat today?”
“Yes, Master. Kreacher has been eating the fine aubergines and cabbages that Master purchased just for Kreacher.” The house-elf paused. “Is Master wanting aubergines and cabbages? Kreacher can be making a fine stew for Master Harry’s supper. Kreacher is also finding several potatoes and Kreacher can be cutting out the dark spots.”
Harry tried not to shudder. He had stocked up heavily on aubergines, cabbage, and winter squash after discovering they were Kreacher’s favourite foods, but Harry could not abide them. He was relieved that at least his house-elf had sustenance… of a sort. “No thank you, Kreacher. I wouldn’t dream of eating your aubergines and cabbages. I think I’ll just nip out and pick something up. I’ll be sure to stock the pantry tomorrow so that you will be able to prepare a meal without resorting to cutting out the black spots from the potatoes.”
Kreacher looked relieved and he nodded happily. “Master knows best.”
“Goodnight, Kreacher,” Harry said and Summoned his cloak. Kreacher popped out, but returned a moment later with Harry’s socks and boots and helped him put them on. Gloves followed and Harry grinned at the old house-elf before Disapparating to Diagon Alley. He wandered aimlessly for several long minutes, but the thought of braving the crowds to eat in a public place seemed too exhausting to contemplate. He thought about going to see Hermione, but remembered that he was annoyed with her. There was also the fact that he had been eating too many meals at her house lately.
He stopped in front of the public owlery and realized he had simply been making excuses. What he really wanted to do was go and see Malfoy. Only because I forgot to mention the Glamour Spell, he rationalized. And he wanted to make sure that both Malfoy and Hermione had survived the afternoon in each other’s company. He quickly returned home and Fire-called Malfoy Manor.
Eight minutes later he stepped out of the fire and grinned sheepishly into Malfoy’s amused visage.
“Twice in one day, Potter? Don’t I feel special?”
Harry snorted. “I doubt that. I just forgot to tell you something when I was here earlier.”
“When you stormed off in a childish huff?” Malfoy asked.
Harry almost smiled. The familiarity of Malfoy’s sarcasm was like a balm to his wounded soul.
“Yes, well, I simply forgot to mention—”
“That you have a strange fetish for feathers and want to wrap your naked body in my ridiculous wings?”
The statement was so close to the truth that Harry nearly choked. He coughed for a moment or two while he glared at the Slytherin.
“Very funny,” Harry snapped and tried to regain his composure. He was somewhat surprised at Malfoy’s good mood and wondered if the blond had ever joked with him before. Granted, the jokes were barbed and insulting, but nevertheless… “Look,” he continued, “If you don’t want to hear it, then I can come back tomorrow. It wasn’t important, anyway.” He stepped back toward the fireplace and realized it had been a particularly wretched day. Harry thought he should simply go home and go straight to bed. Before he could reach for the jar of Floo Powder, his stomach growled loudly.
“When was the last time you ate, Potter?” Draco asked quickly, suddenly almost desperate to keep him from leaving. He wasn’t sure why the Auror was here, but he intended to hold on to his company for as long as possible. He forced a sneer into his voice. “Do you even have food in your house?”
“I have food,” Potter snapped and Draco shuddered to think what might be considered food in the Potter household. Probably days-old Muggle takeaway. Draco was not quite sure what that was, but he had overheard Hogwarts students discussing it in passing and he knew it had to be foul.
“Stay then,” Draco said casually. “It must be terribly important to drag you all the way out here, away from your busy social life.”
Potter flushed and for a moment Draco thought he might have gone too far. He was curious, however. Surely the Auror had better things to do? “I insist we eat in the dining room, however. Mother will tear the wings from my back if she finds a crumb on the carpet. Not that that would necessarily be a bad thing.”
Potter’s hand dropped away from the mantle and he looked at Draco curiously. “Have you considered it?” he asked bluntly. “Having them removed, I mean?”
Draco snorted. “Of course I have. I even considered sawing them off myself. If only I weren’t so damned squeamish about excruciating pain.”
“But St. Mungo’s…”
“Delightful idea, Potter. I’ll turn myself over to that lot of anti-Death Eater sentimentalists and ask them to knock me out and remove my new appendages. Oh, and request they don’t accidentally kill me in the process.” Potter flushed and Draco continued, “Besides, what if I go through all of that and they grow back?”
Potter nodded and Draco made an imperious gesture. He turned, automatically expecting Potter to follow as he went out the door and down the hall. Footsteps behind him divulged that Potter had obediently trailed him instead of fleeing.
When they reached the dining room, Potter’s eyes widened and his nose wrinkled slightly. Draco looked around the room, trying to see it through Potter’s eyes. The dining room was a cold, austere affair. Draco had never liked eating in here and he felt a moment of uncertainty. Perhaps he should have had their meal brought to the conservatory, instead. He made a mental note to do so next time and then chastised himself for even considering a ‘next time.’
Potter dutifully sat down in a hard, high-backed chair. Draco sat across from him, although he perched on a cushioned settee that had been pulled up to the table. He grinned at Potter.
“Chairs interfere with my wings,” he explained with a hint of smugness. “I am therefore privileged to sit on a comfortable seat.”
“Where can I borrow a pair of those?” Potter asked dryly and then blanched. Draco’s jaw tightened slightly. Potter might be a trifle more suave now, but he still had the uncanny ability to say the wrong thing. Draco decided to let the comment go.
“Maybe if you’re a good little Auror, I’ll let you sit on a pillow next time,” he replied tartly. Thankfully, the house-elves chose that moment to appear and place food on the table—enough plates, bowls, and platters to feed a legion.
Potter ate as though it was the first feast he’d had since leaving school. Draco plied the Auror with plenty of expensive red wine. There were questions he wanted to ask the Gryffindor and answers would be more readily forthcoming after a bit of alcoholic inducement. Potter had surprisingly good manners. He used the proper forks for each course and sipped the wine rather than gulping it. Draco wondered where he had learned to eat in a civilized fashion. Granger, probably. The Ministry would not have appreciated their Golden Boy embarrassing them at public functions and important state dinners.
Before the dessert course arrived, Potter swirled the wine in his glass and grinned at him. “I shouldn’t be drinking. Technically, I’m here in an official capacity.”
“I’ll never tell,” Draco purred and was surprised when Potter’s brows shot upward and disappeared into the thatch of dark hair. Potter did gulp his wine then, and coughed when it went down wrong. Interesting reaction, Draco noted and filed it away for later analysis. Surely Potter did not think Draco would tattle on him to the bloody Ministry? Perhaps the hero had simply had too much to drink.
“So, Potter, what important bit of forgetfulness brings you here this evening?”
Potter set the glass down with obvious relief. Before he could speak, the house-elves reappeared with several puddings as well as Potter’s favourite: treacle tart. The Auror waited until the house-elves disappeared again before speaking, although he did tuck his fork into the sticky confection.
“It’s regarding a variant of a Glamour Charm. I might need your help with the case and I can hardly have that with you closeted in the Manor.”
Draco scowled to hide his amazement that the Auror Extraordinaire might actually request his “help”. “What variant?”
“Well, a Glamour works only on a small area. The larger the field, the more unstable the spell and the shorter its duration,” Potter explained and Draco nodded. He refrained from commenting that he had learned about Glamour Charms in fourth year. Potter asked, “What do you use if you want to obscure a larger area?”
“You use a Disillusionment Charm.”
Potter smiled lazily and Draco was almost distracted by the slow curve of the Auror’s lips and the brief flash of fine white teeth before the Auror’s next question snapped him out of it. “And if you combine them?” he asked in a teasing tone.
“Can you?” Draco asked in surprise.
Potter shrugged. “I’ve been working on it for a while. I think I’ve come up with a variant. I’ve been trying to mimic the effect of my invisibility cloak. You know that Disillusionment Charms are only good on certain minds. If someone expects to be followed, they’ll see right through a Disillusionment. Those with resistance to the Imperius Curse can also penetrate one.”
“That would be you,” Draco admitted. Potter was the only person Draco had ever met that could shake an Imperius.
Potter raised a brow at the unintended compliment. Draco looked away.
“Not just me,” Potter said modestly and laughed.
They were silent after that, focusing on dessert while watching each other warily. If anyone had told Draco a few weeks ago that he would soon be having a pleasant meal with Harry Potter, he would have laughed himself silly.
When they finished eating, Draco led the way upstairs. He was somewhat hesitant to take Potter to his rooms, but the Auror had already been there on his first visit. Besides, Draco would only allow him to occupy the sitting room. Potter would likely not even know it was part of Draco’s private suite.
Potter’s eyes flicked to the door leading to Draco’s bedroom and he knew the Auror had figured it out. The bastard was smarter than he looked. If Draco was perfectly honest, he really didn’t look that bad, either. Draco shied away from the thought immediately.
“So,” Potter said brightly and brandished his wand. “Want me to try the spell on you?”
One glass of wine too many, Draco decided. “Are you daft? Have you even attempted this spell on another person?”
“Well, only on myself,” Potter admitted.
Draco rolled his eyes. Typical Gryffindor. No sense of personal safety. “Therefore you think I will allow you to experiment on me?” he asked. “I’m expendable after all, eh?”
Potter’s verdant eyes narrowed. “I’ve never thought that,” he said in a low voice that sounded genuinely angry.
Draco was surprised anew, but snorted. “Never, Potter? Not even in school?”
“I wanted to stop you, especially when I thought you were actively becoming a Death Eater, but I never wanted you dead. I did not even really want you hurt, except for a few times when you provoked me beyond tolerance.”
Draco’s hand went instinctively to his chest and Potter’s eyes widened at the reminder of the Sectumsempra scar, but it was gone now, burned away by the same process that had given Draco his wings.
“It’s gone,” he said.
“I noticed,” Potter replied quietly. “Before.”
An uncomfortable silence fell between them as Draco contemplated the fact that Potter was far more observant than expected. He also felt a strange sense of loss for the missing scar. It had been the only thing that tied him to Potter, regardless that it had been violently delivered. Draco had often drawn his fingers over the faint line of the scar and thought about the one on Potter’s forehead. Foolish as the idea had been, he had felt almost close to the Gryffindor at those times.
Potter looked almost stricken. Draco assumed he was about to spill some Hufflepuffish sentiment when a loud tapping sounded at the glass patio doors. Draco sighed, even though he was somewhat relieved by the distraction.
“Bloody owls. We have an owlery and the house-elves are perfectly adept at retrieving messages and bringing them to me.” He dragged back the heavy curtains to reveal a great grey owl. Draco flung open the patio door to admit the bird, which actually waddled into the room after giving him a disdainful look. It was a huge owl with gleaming yellow eyes.
Potter laughed when the owl walked to him and lifted a foot. “Hermione’s owl,” he explained, though he made no move to retrieve the message. “Erm… do you happen to have any owl treats? She bites.”
“Granger’s owl bites. Astounding,” Draco said dryly. He snapped his fingers and a house-elf appeared and then popped out again to seek out a treat for the animal.
“You know,” Potter said, “We tried to come up with a spell that would make parchment unnecessary. The message would be carried on the owl’s feathers in case of interception. It nearly worked. Hermione came up with a spell that can inscribe words on the feathers. They aren’t visible until the proper key is given to unlock the charm.”
“Clever,” Draco admitted.
“Yeah, except that each feather will only hold about two words. You have to cast the spell a dozen times to inscribe the message, and then when the counterspell is given the words are jumbled. Few of us had the patience to try and put the puzzle together.”
“It might be useful for a simple message,” Draco said politely and Potter nodded.
“We use it on occasion.”
The house-elf returned and Draco tossed a packet of owl nuggets to Potter, who knelt down before the wicked-looking owl.
“Here you go, Curie,” he said as he offered a treat to the bird. She snapped at it and Potter yanked his fingers back in the nick of time. He laughed hesitantly and reached down to gingerly to untie the message. Potter kept a close eye on the owl’s beak and Draco had a new respect for his bravery. The owl looked like a menace. Potter retreated a few steps in obvious relief when he had the message safely in his hands. “Bloody bird hates me,” he muttered and plucked at the red ribbon that bound the parchment.
Draco and the grey owl waited while Potter scanned the message. He grinned at Draco. “Fabulous news! Hermione might have found a lead on the potion! She wants me to come over so she can explain.” Potter paused and then asked, “Do you want to come? She’s waiting for me at her place.”
Draco sneered.
Potter made a clucking sound. “She’s already seen you. Come on, it will do you good to have a change of scenery.”
“Granger’s house is hardly the change I’ve been looking forward to.”
“She’s got a perfectly nice house. You’ll love it; it’s full of books.”
Draco’s eyes flicked to his own well-stuffed shelves and was surprised to find himself considering the notion. “How would we get there?” he asked uncertainly.
“Floo Network, since you’ve never been there. Unless you want to Side-along?”
The thought of Potter touching him again made Draco’s stomach clench in a not-unpleasant, but distinctly unwelcome way and he shook his head.
“All right, Floo it is. No return message, Curie.” Potter tossed the owl another treat and it hooted rather nastily before winging quickly out the door.
“Charming bird,” Draco commented and then led Potter back downstairs to the usual fireplace before he had time to change his mind.
CHAPTER FIVE PART TWO