A Boy Named Draco - Chapter 35/39
Chapter 35
What greeted them upon setting foot in the village of Hogsmeade was startling. The air was rent by a blood curling scream and Harry knew that they’d been caught. The door of the Three Broomsticks burst open and a dozen Death Eaters rushed forward, ready for violence.
All four were crouched under Harry’s invisibility cloak that had apparently expanded enough to protect them. Six of the Death Eaters rushed towards them: Harry Ron, Hermione and Draco backed away as quickly as possible down the nearest side street. The Death Eaters missed them by mere centimeters.
“Spread out. He’s here” A hooded Death Eater proclaimed loudly.
Under the cloak Draco’s panicky breathing stilled when Harry laid a warm hand on his shoulder. The squib turned to him and the wizard could smell the saltiness of tears under the gloom of the gossamer material. Remorse settled on his shoulders. He’d forgotten how susceptible the blond could be. Harry longed for an opportunity to make things clear but now wasn’t it.
“Let’s just leave!” Hermione whispered. “Disapparate now!”
Ron agreed but before Harry could reply a Death Eater shouted.
“We know you’re here, Potter, and there’s no getting away! We’ll find you!”
“They were ready for us,” whispered Harry. “They set up that spell to tell them we’d come. I reckon they’ve done something to trap us here.”
They were pressed so close that Draco could feel Harry’s heart pounding fast and strong through his thin jumper. He tried to focus on that sensation but soon raw anguish took a hold of his own heart. The air became heavy with grief and Draco wanted to sink into the ground and never get up again. His mother’s dying form interposed with that of Dobby’s. Both of them breathing their last because of him… because of what he was. He was a tool, a travesty for a madman who wanted to tear the world apart. And the memories… all bad, all painful. He would never be good enough for Harry. He was evil. He was better off dead.
It had gotten pitch dark and all warmth had been sucked from the air. “Dementors!” Ron whispered and indeed a foul specimen was gliding towards them with its brothers in its wake. Dragging, rattling breaths rent the air as they tasted Draco’s despair.
Harry raised his wand: He could not, would not let anyone suffer the Dementor’s Kiss, whatever happened afterward. It was of Ron, Hermione and mostly Draco that he thought of when he whispered, “Expecto Patronum!”
The silver stag burst from his wand and charged: The dementors scattered and there was a triumphant yell from somewhere out of sight.
“It’s him, down there, down there, I saw his Patronus, it was a stag!”
Before Harry could decide what to do a rough voice to the left of him urged. “Potter, in here, quick!”
He obeyed without hesitation and all four hurtled through the open doorway.
“Upstairs, keep the cloak on, keep quiet1” muttered a tall figure, passing them on his way into the street and slamming the door behind him.
Harry soon realized that they were in one of the rooms of the Hog’s Head Inn. He looked around the small area A stone fireplace gave the space some warmth. A single large oil painting of a blond girl hung above it.
He could hear shouting bellow and looked out to see the Hog’s Head barman convince the assembled Death Eaters that the Patronus they had seen was his own horned goat one instead of the famed Potter stag.
A few minutes later they heard loud, heavy steps coming up the stairs and into the room they occupied. Harry let the cloak fall when he was certain that it was their savior.
“Thank you,” said Harry. “We can’t thank you enough. You saved all our lives.”
The barman grunted as Harry approached them.
“You’re Aberforth.”
He said nothing but bent to light the fire.
“We need to get into Hogwarts. Could you help us do that.”
“Don’t be stupid, boy,” said Aberforth.
Draco drew nearer Harry and scowled at the large man. Aberforth looked at him curiously.
“I never have seen you around these parts. Who are you?”
“I am Draco.” He said with more bravery than he felt.
“Draco what?”
Looking up at the intimidating old man with the piercing blue eyes the squib forgot himself for a moment and blurted out: “Potter”
Harry froze. Hermione gasped. “What?” shrieked Ron.
Realizing his mistake, Draco sought Harry. His entire demeanor was apologetic and vulnerable.
“I’m sorry. It’s just that they asked me for a last name in the orphanage and I didn’t have one to give. I thought… I thought that I would never see you again so I gave them yours. It was like keeping a little of you with me.”
Something indistinct stirred below the wizard’s belly. He looked at Draco who had his head bowed in terrible shame. There was nothing for it.
He was in love. Voldemort and his plans be dammed.
Harry took Draco by the arms and pulled towards him. He pressed his lips against Draco’s quivering ones. The room melted around their embrace as Draco parted and allowed Harry inside. The wizard was emboldened and his tongue ran the gamut of the blond’s warm mouth. He licked the roof and tickled the tip of his tongue with his own. Draco moaned and closed his eyes in bliss.
And then Ron made a gagging sound.
They broke apart reluctantly and faced their audience. Hermione was holding on to a greenish Ron while Aberforth had a knowing look in his eyes.
“No wonder my brother liked you so much. You reminded him of himself.”
“What, who and huh?” Ron spluttered and Hermione dug through her beaded bag for a calming draught.
“My brother Albus of course.”
“Headmaster Dumbledore. Albus. That Dumbledore.”
“Why yes. You mean you didn’t know? All his robes had spangles on them and he was always sucking on a lolly. Did you mean to tell me that didn’t clue you in?”
“We thought he was eccentric.” Ron murmured, deeply troubled.
“Yup. Eccentric like a spotted, purple cockatrice. How dim are you kids?
Aberforth did not get his answer. The portrait of the blond girl had retreated to a long tunnel painted behind her. They watched as she was swallowed by the darkness.
“Er _-- what---?” Ron began, confused once more.
“There is only one way to Hogwarts,” said Aberforth. “You must know they’ve got all the other secret passageways covered at both ends, dementors are guarding the perimeter.”
“But what…” said Hermione, frowning at the picture.
A tiny white dot had reappeared at the end of the painted tunnel, and now the painted girl was walking back toward them, growing bigger as she came. But there was somebody else with her now, someone taller than what she was, who was limping along, looking excited. His hair was longer than Harry had ever seen it and he looked worse for wear. The two figures grew more until only their heads and shoulders filled the portrait. Then the whole thing swung forward on the wall like a little door, and the entrance to the real tunnel was revealed. Out clambered Neville Longbottom, who gave a roar of delight, leapt down form the mantelpiece, and yelled , “I knew you’d come! I knew it, Harry!”
Shocked beyond belief Harry, Hermione and Ron all spoke at the same time.
‘Neville - what the ---how-“
“Oh Neville, it is so good to see you.”
“Neville did you know that Dumbledore was gay?”
TBC.
Author’s note: Yeah I know, whenever I try to write anything remotely sensual I just get awkward and weird. P.S. The cockatrice is actually part of the HP world. It is half rooster, half lizard although not usually purple or spotted.