Faith: Chapter Forty-Two Part One
Chapter 42: Under the Bleachers
Harry turned his face towards the weak spring sun and sighed. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back, his arms held out a little ways from his body as he enjoyed the feel of light on his face.
“Harry?” Draco slid an arm around Harry’s waist, jostling the smaller boy. “Want to head down by the Quidditch Pitch?”
The news that the students were going to be able to go out had been met by thunderous applause the night before - something even Harry could hear all the way in the Hospital Wing. Draco and his other Housemates had bounded up to his room right after dinner to give him the good news. Healer Fabing and Madam Pomfrey had not wanted to let Harry go, but with a handful of Slytherins and a few former Gryffindors, they managed to sneak the dark haired boy out of the Ward that morning.
Harry turned a small smile onto his boyfriend and nodded. “Yeah. It’ll be good to see the Pitch - even if we can’t play at the moment.”
“Yes.” Draco guided the smaller boy away from the ever-alert eyes of the Order members and down towards the locker rooms.
“Did the Headmaster say anything about us not going down the Pitch today?” Harry craned his neck to see if anyone else was headed in the same direction.
“If he did, I did not pay attention to it.” Draco flung out a hand and snorted. “Besides, it’s the Quidditch Pitch! You-Know-Who’s watchers are not about to sit around an empty arena and watch the grass grow.”
“Then what are we about to do?” Harry canted a look at the blond.
Draco turned and leered at Harry. “We’re going to do the traditional thing and snog under the bleachers. It’s been a lifelong dream of mine, and now that we have the opportunity, I think we should take it.”
Harry’s laughter could be heard all the way up to the castle.
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“Would you just listen to those freaks?” Ron leaned against the wall of the castle, his expression one of extreme distaste. “It’s disgusting.”
Michael nodded, and then froze at the sight of Percy Weasley strolling up to his younger brother.
“Ron.” Percy’s gaze lingered for a moment on the Ravenclaw. “Why aren’t you out enjoying the sunshine?” Percy leaned against the castle wall next to his brother, their shoulders barely touching.
“I - uh, was just…er…” Ron shifted, shooting Michael a panicked look.
“Ron and I were just talking.” Michael studied the older Weasley, pushing off the wall to face him.
“Ah.” Percy met Michael’s gaze and an amused smiled slipped across his face. “A perfect day for Quidditch, don’t you think?”
Michael swallowed a smirk and nodded. “It is.” He glanced towards the Pitch and faked a disappointed sigh. “Too bad games have been cancelled.”
“Yes, too bad.” Percy leaned back onto the castle wall and folded his arms across his chest. “It’s also a shame that the Slytherins are the only ones going down to the Pitch today. It’d be a shame if they booby trapped the Gryffindor locker rooms, wouldn’t it?”
Ron’s gaze switched between the two wizards as though he were watching a dueling match. “But the Headmaster wouldn’t allow that.” Ron pointed out. “Besides, he’s got to have some people down there, making sure no one tries to slip off into the forest.” An ugly expression slipped onto his face. “Like Potter and the rest of his Slytherins.”
“Well, isn’t it a lucky thing that I’m the one who gets to watch over the Pitch today?” Percy winked at his little brother and turned to look at Michael. “I mean, the Headmaster assigned the duty to me, thinking that no one in their right minds would be at the Pitch today…much too close to the forest for anyone’s liking.”
“Well, no one in their right minds would go…which excludes Potter, that’s for sure.” Michael nodded at the older wizard and turned a wicked smile onto Ron. “C’mon Ron. The day’s wasting. Let’s go see if we can find the others, eh?”
“Uh…” Ron frowned and glanced between the two wizards. “Sure. Yeah.” He pushed away from the wall he was leaning on and followed Michael, waving at his older brother as they left.
He never saw the glint that entered Percy’s eyes, nor the twisted smile that slipped onto his face as the two boys walked away.
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“Michael!” Ron hissed, tugging at the other boy’s sleeve. “Why’d you say that? We’re never going to be able to get down to the Pitch now…”
“Ron, would you shut up!” Michael tore his arm from Ron’s grip and scowled at the Gryffindor. “Your older brother just gave us permission to do whatever we liked down at the Pitch you ninny! Now shut up and follow me.”
“But - but -,” Ron stuttered, stumbling over his feet as he trailed after the Ravenclaw.
“Honestly, Gryffindors.” Michael shook his head, grumbling under his breath. “C’mon Ron!”
Nearing the Pitch, they slowed, wands held tight in their fists, listening for any sound of their prey. They finally spotted them under the Slytherin stands, Draco seated on a small bench with Harry on his lap, the two of them laughing over something too soft for Ron or Michael to hear.
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“It’ll be nice to play Quidditch again,” Harry slid off of Draco’s lap and took a few steps towards the pitch, his eyes on the goal rings. “I miss it.”
Draco stood behind him, resting his hands on the thin shoulders. “It will be nice when all this mess is over.”
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Michael caught Ron’s eye and nodded. They burst into the small area, their wands pointed at Slytherins.
“Petrificus Totalas!”
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“Sirius? Have you seen Harry at all?” Remus poked his head around the corner and looked into the sitting room. “Sirius?”
“No, I haven’t.” The animagus looked up from the map he was studying and shook his head. “He’s probably outside with Draco, though.”
“Hmm.” Remus’ head disappeared back into their bedroom. Sirius stood and followed his lover into the room.
“Why?” He leaned on the doorjamb and watched as Remus prowled the room.
“I don’t know.” The werewolf’s eyes gleamed golden in the dim light. “I just have a bad feeling.”
“It’ll be alright, Moony.” Sirius stepped forward and caught the wiry man in his arms. “Just relax. We need to be alert and rested, not tired and out of sorts. He’s fine, he’s with Draco and the other Slytherins. I highly doubt anything will happen to him.”
Tension still thrummed through Remus’ body. “I know what you’re saying is probably true.” With a sigh the werewolf’s body slumped into his lover’s embrace. “But I still think something’s wrong.” He turned his head towards the window, shifting from foot to foot. “I don’t know why.”
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Hagrid had buried Fang’s body as close to the hut, the small marker he’d set up for the hound visible from a window near his favorite chair. The half-giant sniffled into his teacup, wiping at his eyes with an already sopping red hanky.
He set his cup aside with a sigh, standing with a groan and moving over to the fireplace to check on his stew. He winced as his knees creaked and popped, the right one almost giving out on him as he lowered himself down to taste his food. His left hand automatically went out to the side of the hearth, where Fang used to lay, soaking up the heat from the fireplace. His breath caught in his throat and he dashed at his eyes once again. It’s just not the same without him here. He cleared his throat and shook his head, his frizzy hair sticking to his damp cheeks.
As he limped back to his chair he paused, staring out the window with a frown. He crossed the small distance and flung open the other shutter, resting his hands on the sill, blinking rapidly.
The animals were leaving the forest.
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“Albus?”
The Headmaster looked up from the pile of papers in front of him, staring over his glasses at Minerva. “Yes?”
The Deputy Headmistress stepped up to the large desk, a rather think red envelope in her hands. Albus sighed, his shoulders slumping as he took the Ministry letter and broke open the seal.
His mouth tightened with every line he read. He set it down on his desk, on top of the other piles and took off his glasses, throwing them onto the stack of papers without a care. Minerva raised an eyebrow at him.
“The Ministry has seen fit to tell me that whatever Dark Magic the Slytherins have been using has caused a severe reaction in the muggle world.” Albus pushed his chair back and stood, moving to the window and looking down at the happy faces of the children playing on the grounds. “Apparently the old places of worship have come back, eradicating the buildings that were built over them. Gods and Goddesses have allegedly been spotted at these sites.” He leaned against the cool stone of the castle, his hands resting lightly on the ledge. “It seems as though the muggle world has found itself in quite a quandary and the Ministry is blaming the Slytherins for it.”
“Ah.” Minerva crossed the room to stand at his side, watching the children with him. “Does he have any proof?”
Albus contemplated her for a long moment before shaking his head. “He suspects, that is all. They haven’t been very circumspect about the books they have been studying, however, and the rumor mill churns daily.”
“There’s no way to stop…anything they may have done.” Minerva tucked her hands into her sleeves and shrugged. “They have broken Ministry law, though.”
“No, they haven’t.” For the first time in weeks Albus’ eyes regained a touch of their former sparkle. “They haven’t deliberately gone out and invoked deities in the presence of muggles. What they have done is completely legal - and endorsed by the more tradition bound families in the wizarding world.”
Minerva turned, a small crease appearing between her eyebrows. “But Fudge can still make trouble for all of them, especially Harry, if he gets the press on his side.”
“Let him try.” Lucius’ voice made both of them jump and turn towards the door. The blond was leaning against the doorjamb, a pleased smirk on his face.
“And do you know something regarding the press that we don’t, Lucius?” Albus moved back to his chair and sat, lacing his fingers together in his lap.
“The Daily Prophet is under my control now, and as you know it’s the most read paper in wizarding Britain.” Lucius pushed away from the door and walked into the room, his arms still crossed across his chest and his patent smirk firmly in place.
“That still won’t drown out the other papers -,” Minerva began.
“Don’t worry about the other papers.” Lucius’ chin rose a fraction of an inch as he stared her down. “They’ll be taken care of.”
“Albus,” Minerva turned the Headmaster, who raised a tired hand.
“I would prefer this done in a legal, appropriate way Lucius.” Albus met the cold eyes. “The last thing any Slytherin needs is more bad rumors floating about.”
“Why Headmaster Dumbledore,” the smile was small and vicious. “I’m hurt, truly. Surely you know I would never do something so…” the glint in his eyes turned evil, “malicious and purposely damaging to my reputation.” Albus winced and looked away, conceding the argument to the elder Malfoy. “Have no fear,” he all but purred and turned, sauntering out of the room slowly enough to have Minerva in a state when he was finally gone.
“Albus, I wish you would do something about how Mr. Malfoy treats -,”
“He is Lucius, Minerva.” The twinkle had left Albus’ eyes, and for that reason alone Minerva was ready to rip the elder Malfoy’s hair out by the handfuls. “We are lucky enough to have him on our side. He is an invaluable tool, one I do not wish to lose.” He sighed and picked up his glasses, slipping them back on with a wince. “Thank you, Minerva.”
She snapped her mouth closed and stood next to his chair, looking down at his white hair and blue cap for several minutes. She reached out and touched his shoulder before turning and taking herself from the room, not looking back.
Albus never looked up.
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Rosmerta sat on the stone outcropping, her hands dangling between her parted knees, her head hanging low. Sweat ran in shiny rivulets down the back of her neck and she tugged at the laces of her gown, not quite daring to take it off and go forward only in her shift.
She used her sleeve to wipe her brow and sat up with a groan. The Otherworld sun was high and bright in the sky and no matter how hot and uncomfortable she felt her throat still tightened at the sight of it. We are coming back. She closed her eyes and raised her hands to the sun, giddy joy running through her. It is all coming back.
Her hands were caught in a calloused grip and she gasped, her eyes flying open in shock. She stared up at the silhouetted figure in front of her, squinting.
“Is this a proper greeting from a wife to her husband she hasn’t seen in centuries?” The voice brought tears to her eyes and she yanked her hands out of the figure’s grip.
“Lugh?” The figure backed up until she could see him, his dark hair and eyes laughing at her, his smile broad. She shrieked.
“You blasted son of a half breed cur!” She leapt at him, her hands curling into claws.
“Now, there’s my wife!”
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Sasha and Seamus sat on the grass near the hot houses, hidden from the view of the other students. Sasha’s dark hair gleamed in the sunlight even as she shivered at the slight chill of the waning afternoon air. Seamus picked up his wand and flicked a warming spell on her cloths - which got him another smile for his trouble.
“It feels so strange.” She lifted her face to the sun and closed her eyes, her lashes dark against her pale cheeks. “To know that something so frightening is about to happen when you’re out here, enjoying the sunshine.”
“Yeah.” Seamus drew his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around them, resting his chin on top of his right leg. “But this is the first time you and I have been in the direct line of danger. Harry’s been at this for years already.”
Sasha opened her eyes and glanced down at him, her expression turning serious. “You’re right. I hadn’t thought about that.” She let her gaze drift past him, chewing on the skin of her lower lip as she thought. “Do you think that’s why he tries to do so much?”
“Who? Harry?” Seamus snorted. “I dunno. He’s always been like that.”
“Sad.” She shook her head, the serious expression fading as she focused on Seamus once more. “I don’t want this day to end.” Her smile was wistful and a touch scared.
Seamus let go of his knees and reached out for her, drawing her close to his side and wrapping his arms around her. “It’ll be fine, it will,” he murmured into her dark hair, one hand carding through the loose strands spilling down her back. “Everything will be all right.”
“Will it?” She trembled as her arms locked around his neck. She buried her face in the crook of his neck. “A part of me is calm, but a part of me is scared too.”
“Me too.” Seamus smoothed a hand down her back, holding her for a long moment. “Me too.” He rested his chin on her shoulder and closed his eyes. Whoever out there…if You’re listening, please don’t let Sasha get hurt. He opened his eyes and stared out over the bright grounds, the small breeze dying down and the warmth from the sun beginning to pink his hands and cheeks. He could hear the sound of the insects in the bushes and the smell of the fresh cut grass was heavy on the air. Please. He closed his eyes once more and fought down a shudder, pulling a surprised Sasha into his lap, grinning at her surprised laughter. Don’t let me lose her.