Chapter Nine of TCH
Sorry for lateness. Exams and assignments were holding down ...
Here is THE CROOKED HEART
“There is freedom without trying to catch the deluge in a paper cup.” - Neil Finn
Chapter Nine: The Beginning of the End
Harry flicked on the television in the muggle hotel room. The late news was on and an Irish accent reported that there had been no new developments on the recent massacres in England, Germany and Canada.
Harry sighed and looked out the window at the half moon. Harry had been keeping an eye on the muggle news in hopes of hearing more about Death Eater activity. They couldn’t have a copy of the Daily Prophet sent to them without drawing Ministry attention, so muggle intelligence was the best informant they had.
The attack in Surrey had been the first massacre. The very next day a similar attack in Kassel, Germany and the day after that - Winnipeg, Canada. Death Eaters from all over the world were massing and Voldemort was growing in confidence. He would make his final strike soon.
A loud, grunting snore turned Harry’s attention away from the moon outside. Ron and Hermione had both gone to bed a couple of hours before. They were planning to leave Dublin and return to London the next day. They’d had a long day, running around that park, and needed rest.
Malfoy had disappeared into his room almost the moment they’d checked in to the hotel and Harry assumed he was sleeping. With Hermione and Ron sharing the room with the two singles, and Malfoy in the master room, Harry had the couch.
Harry wished he could sleep, but his mind was far too full to calm down enough for it. Harry switched the television off, cutting the German correspondent off.
“Did you mean what you said?”
Harry snapped his head around the couch he was lounging on. Malfoy was standing in the doorway to his bedroom, his arms crossed and his brow furrowed.
“What?” asked Harry.
“Did you mean what you said?” repeated Malfoy.
“Did I mean what?” Harry asked, turning back around as Malfoy walked over to him.
“What you said to me back at your aunt and uncle’s house,” said Malfoy, sitting at the other end of the couch and throwing his legs onto the coffee table. “You said you’d protect me.”
Harry raised his eyebrows. “You remember that? I thought you’d forgotten all about that night.”
Malfoy let out a small sigh. “I had, mostly. I just remembered then.”
“Oh.”
“So,” Malfoy implored. “Did you mean it?”
“I mean most things I say,” replied Harry.
“Is that a yes?” Malfoy asked.
Harry turned his gaze to him. “Why do you care?”
Malfoy looked away from Harry’s scrutinizing stare and cleared his throat. “I just think I might need it, is all. Your protection, I mean.”
“Right,” said Harry, looking away again. “Well, you’ll need protection from Ron and Hermione if you don’t shed some more light on the impending Hogwarts attack.”
Malfoy bristled. “I’ve already told you, I don’t know anything about it. Just that it’s happening.”
Harry didn’t reply. For reasons he didn’t completely understand, he wanted to believe Malfoy; but he couldn’t help being distrustful, no doubt a habit yet to be squashed. Malfoy sat next to him stubbornly though, waiting for Harry to make a response.
“I said I’ll protect you and I will,” said Harry, backtracking,
Malfoy made a face at Harry’s change of subject. “So you will protect me?” he said after a moment, playing a long.
“Well I just said I would,” said Harry impatiently.
Harry had noticed that his conversations with Malfoy for the last couple of days, tended to be awkward and circular. Like they were trying to avoid something, but Harry didn’t know what or why. Prior to this awkwardness, for a day at least, they had got on well and Harry had hopes of them forming some kind of understanding. But right now there was only … well … awkwardness.
They sat in silence for a few seconds, avoiding each other’s eyes when Malfoy suddenly turned to him, a smirk on his face. “Have you really only kissed two girls?”
Harry snapped his head to Malfoy again. “How do you know that?”
Malfoy’s smirk deepened. “Your spectacular Gryffindor-drunk-tattoo-fiesta night. We played truth or dare, remember?”
“Actually no,” said Harry frowning, “I don’t remember.”
“Well that’s how I know,” said Malfoy. “So, just the two?”
Harry looked away. “Yes, just Ginny and Cho Chang. What’s wrong with that?” he asked defensively.
“Nothing,” said Malfoy, mischievously. “It’s just, you know, I’m gay and I’ve kissed more girls.”
“You’re gay?” Harry asked.
“Yes. Also established on aforementioned Gryffindor fiesta,” said Malfoy quickly. “So who was better? The Weasley girl or the Ravenclaw strumpet?”
Harry blushed and cursed himself for doing so. “I dunno,” he said too quickly.
“Sure you do,” said Malfoy in a strange voice that he’d been using on Harry of late. One that made Hermione scowl.
“No I don’t, because I don’t think about things like that,” said Harry, still red in the cheeks.
Malfoy smiled strangely at him and in the back of Harry’s mind he was vaguely aware that Malfoy seemed to be flirting with him. Something Harry would’ve thought a ridiculous notion had Malfoy not just revealed he was gay. This sudden comprehension made Harry’s blush return stronger than ever, and Harry was surprised that he wasn’t completely disgusted by the idea.
“Hmm,” said Malfoy. “Maybe neither was that great? Or maybe you just aren’t that great?”
Harry glared, his face full of indignation. “What do you know about my snogging abilities?”
That smile returned. “Did you have sex with one of them?” Malfoy teased, unaware that the answer to that question was affirmative.
Harry said nothing, but gave himself away by determinedly looking in the other direction and crossing his arms self-consciously.
Malfoy seemed annoyed. “It was the Weasel girl, wasn’t it?” He snorted. “I’m not surprised. I saw you two at school. She looked like she was gagging for it.”
Harry looked angry. “You just shut up and don’t say anything to Ron.”
“Say what? That you think his little sister is a shit snog or a shit shag?”
“I never said that!” shouted Harry, standing quickly.
“You didn’t have to say it. The fact you didn’t say anything was proof enough,” said Malfoy, his strange annoyance gone to be replaced with amusement.
“Well like I said, what would you know?” Harry said, crossing his arms angrily, dimly aware that this conversation was becoming mightily childish. “I suppose you’re just a fabulous snogger?”
“Of course,” said Malfoy with a smirk and little laugh.
“Prove it,” dared Harry.
Malfoy merely raised an eyebrow before standing up and moving towards Harry. Harry threw up his arms to stop him, realizing what he’d just suggested. “Christ, I didn’t mean with me!” He stepped back quickly until his back was to the door of Ron and Hermione’s bedroom.
Malfoy pushed Harry against it and Harry stiffened in shock. “I think you did,” Malfoy said.
Malfoy had a firm hold of Harry’s arms and he was flushed against him more than was appropriate. Harry, being stronger, could have easily pushed him away, but he was frozen to the spot. Malfoy looked at Harry’s face intently and Harry watched, slightly horrified, as Malfoy’s grey eyes swept over his jaw, his cheeks and his mouth before finally coming to rest on his eyes.
“Yes, I think you did mean with me. You just don’t know it yet.” Malfoy let go of Harry’s wrists and stepped back from him. He gave a little smirk before turning on his heel to return to his bedroom, leaving Harry against the wall, trying to form a coherent explanation for what had just happened.
It was awfully difficult to do as his head was full of shining grey eyes.
(())
The next morning, as Ron and Malfoy packed their things in the hotel room, Harry and Hermione walked together to the reception office to pay for the night they’d spent there.
Harry had been careful not to catch Malfoy’s eye - much to Malfoy’s amusement - all morning, and had instead directed all conversation to Ron and Hermione. Unfortunately, like so many things, this behaviour did not go unnoticed by Hermione.
“Did something happen between you and Malfoy last night?” Hermione asked breathlessly, like she’d wanted to ask for some time but hadn’t had the nerve.
“No!” said Harry, quickly and nervously, kicking a stone up from the road. “Why would you think something’s happened?”
Hermione raised her eyebrows knowingly. “Because Malfoy looks smug and you look embarrassed.”
“I don’t look embarrassed!” Harry exclaimed indignantly. Hermione made no response as they walked into the muggle reception office to pay.
Despite Hermione’s earlier reservations on the idea, they had begun bewitching their muggle money. Hermione had agreed to it as it was her fault they had no more. She’d spent the last of it at Diesel and Prada, buying them all clothes.
Harry and Ron had been a little annoyed at her. She was only meant to buy a couple of things for Malfoy, but had come back with - in Harry’s opinion - an entire wardrobe for him. She’d also brought herself and Harry and Ron several tops and trousers that Harry didn’t think they needed and was only extra baggage. Hermione had said she’d take care of that. Apparently Hermione’s idea of taking care of that was throwing out all of Harry and Ron’s other clothes.
They thanked the lady at reception and hoped that she wasn’t blamed when all those pounds were returned to their original form - rocks.
“So,” said Hermione. “Did you have a fight with Malfoy?”
Harry sighed resignedly. “Sort of … er, no. No, not really.”
“Do you know that he’s gay?” Hermione asked carefully.
Harry blushed a little, a reaction that was becoming annoyingly frequent. “Um … yeah. He told me last night.”
“Is that why you’re avoiding him?” Hermione asked disapprovingly. “I mean, there are plenty of reasons to avoid him for which I would completely understand, but his sexuality is not-”
“Hermione!” Harry interrupted. “I don’t care about that. You should know I wouldn’t.”
Hermione took a deep breath. “Okay,” she said. “But there’s something I should tell you.”
Hermione took his arm and directed him away from the little units and across the road to a small park. It was a nice, crisp morning, with the promise of sunshine - the last they were likely to see as winter was fast approaching.
It had obviously rained very early in the morning as they’d slept, as all the play equipment was sopping. Hermione subtly dried the seat of the swings with her wand and they sat down on them.
“So what do you want to tell me?” Harry asked after they’d got a few good runs on the swings - Hermione swinging up high in the air and Harry spinning the two ropes together on the spot and then letting them come undone.
“Well,” said Hermione, dragging her feet in the dirt as the swing slowly swayed back and forth, “it’s a little delicate, this situation. There’s something I know for sure, and then something that I just suspect.”
“Right, well out with it,” said Harry, in a far better mood after his play on the swings.
Hermione nodded her head and bit her bottom lip nervously. “Out with it …” she murmured. “Okay. Malfoy’s attracted to you. He admitted it to me last night when you and Ron were in the park.”
Harry made no response but stilled the little swinging he’d been doing, staring straight ahead.
Hermione took another deep breath. “And even though he didn’t admit to this next part, I think it’s probably true that he’s … well … that he’s into you.”
Harry snapped his head around to her, unable to hold back a smile and keep from saying, “Into me? God, Hermione, how old are you?”
Hermione could not hold back her own smile. “That’s what he said.”
Harry stopped smiling at once and begun comprehending what Hermione’s words meant. “So,” she implored. “How do you feel about that?”
“I don’t know how I feel.”
Hermione frowned, clearly not expecting that answer. “But Harry,” said Hermione. “You can’t not know. You need to go to Malfoy and tell him to get over whatever it is that he’s got for you. Otherwise you’ll just hurt him later on if he really does like you. It’s the worst thing in the world for gay guys to fall for straight guys. They always get hurt.” Hermione looked at him disapprovingly. “Really Harry, what do you mean you don’t know how you feel?”
Harry frowned. “It means what it sounds like it means. And I don’t want to talk about this anymore. There are more important things going on. Like how are we going to warn the Order about the attack on Hogwarts?”
“But Harry-”
“Hermione, please!” shouted Harry impatiently, standing up from his swing. “I know you mean well, but seriously, you need to learn to keep your nose out of other people’s business. If I want to talk to you about something, I’m perfectly capable of starting a conversation.”
He began to stalk off when he heard Hermione shout, “Accio Somna Hedwig!”
Harry turned on his heel and saw Hermione standing tall with her wand in the air.
“What did you just do?”
“I’ve summoned Hedwig to you so you can send an owl to the Order,” Hermione said coldly. “We better get going now, if that’s alright with you Harry.”
She stalked past him, leaving him to ponder on another problem that he now had.
(())
Draco folded his jeans neatly into his duffel bag as Ron stuffed and scrunched his into his trunk.
“Are you angry at your clothes, Weasley?”
“What?” said Ron, disinterestedly, dropping to the ground to pick up his fallen socks.
“The maltreatment of your clothes is what,” said Draco. “I can only assume they have offended you in some way. No doubt they had the nerve to be fashionable.”
“Fuck off, Malfoy,” said Ron, only half-heartedly.
“Careful Weasley, your class is showing through.”
“Whatever,” he said, closing his trunk and shrinking it so it was small enough to put in his pocket.
Draco frowned. Weasley had been far too accommodating of late. Nothing Draco said seemed to get to him, and there was something wrong with the world when there were Malfoy’s and Weasley’s getting along.
Draco didn’t have long to deliberate on this though. Granger smashed through the door, stalked into the bedroom and flicked her wand. Her suitcase immediately began packing itself.
She was followed by Potter, wearing Draco’s second favourite “Harry Face” - the Angry Scowl. Draco winked at him and the angry scowl was replaced, much to Draco’s delight, with his favourite “Harry Face” - the Embarrassed Huff.
“Did you two have a fight?” Weasley asked, concernedly.
“We’re fine,” said Potter, pointedly avoiding Draco’s eye. “Let’s just get going.”
Weasley sighed in acceptance as a series of loud banging sounds came from Hermione bedroom. She was shaking out her towel, viciously beating it against the wall with a furious frown on her face.
“Hermione-” Weasley began.
“We’re fine!” Granger snapped.
Weasley turned away from her and muttered something under his breath that sounded a lot like “bullshit”. Draco had never agreed more with Weasley in his life.
(())
Severus Snape fixed his mask and pulled his robes around himself tightly as the Dark Lord entered the small chamber filled with his inner circle. The identities of these men and women were meant to be secret, though Snape knew most of them and all knew him. Their metal masks hid their facial expressions from view as the Dark Lord approached them.
“I am pleased with you,” the Dark Lord hissed menacingly. “Our annihilation of the muggles has gone well; the Ministry and the Order of the Phoenix have not been able to stop any of it. This informs me that here stand loyal followers, and that pleases me.”
Severus stifled the urge to take a deep breath.
“The day the last line of defense is destroyed fast approaches. Hogwarts Castle will soon be nothing but battle ruins. But first, my faithful followers,” the Dark Lord said carefully, his red eyes sparkling, “there is one more insect to squash, and another snake to be freed.”
Severus was thankful for his long, black robes as he clenched his hands into fists.
(())
MINISTRY OVERRUN, MASS KILLINGS & NO MORE HOPE
This special night edition of the Daily Prophet has been printed and sent out to all Wizarding Family’s. At approximately six o’clock this night, He Who Must Not Be Named’s Death Eaters and other followers (including werewolves, giants and Dementors) stormed the Ministry. Floor after floor became overrun and the Death Eaters killed all in sight.
A Wizengamot was taking place at the time. It was believed to have been the acquittal of suspected Death Eater, Stan Shunpike. The Death Eaters killed all in the Wizengamot Courtroom, including Minister for Magic, Rufus Scrimgeour. A full list of the dead can be found on page three.
There was more but Harry put the paper down and stopped reading out loud, his throat was dry. Hedwig gave a soft hoot, wondering why Harry was not being more appreciative to her presence.
Malfoy was skulking in the back corner of the London hotel room, looking very pale and not making a sound. Hermione was making a sort of whining noise and she was clenching Ron’s arm. Ron’s face was like steel.
“Go to the list of the dead … my whole family works at the Ministry …” Ron whispered.
“They may not have been there!” Hermione declared shrilly.
Harry took a deep breath and turned the page. He carefully ran his hand down the list of the dead, his mind numb and his heart full of dread. He recognised many of the names, Dolores Umbridge among them. Then he came to the W’s. His heart lurched. He looked at his friend, and his stomach dropped to his feet. Hermione clasped her hand over her mouth, her eyes wide and scared.
“I …” Harry tried to speak but nothing came out.
“Who?” Ron screamed loudly, making Harry and Hermione jump. Hermione began to sob.
“P-Percy … Percy’s o-on the list.”
Ron’s face went grey, and then he looked like he was going to laugh. Then suddenly his face crumpled and he buried his face in his hands. Hermione quickly wrapped her arms around him. The room seemed to darken instantly as despair entered and Harry was completely speechless.
This was a sore sight Harry had never witnessed before. He had never seen Ron cry, and now, looking at his best friend’s heaving shoulders, Harry found that he could not watch. He stood up quickly and ran to the bedroom, Hedwig flew in after him and Malfoy dashed in behind her.
Harry said nothing to either of them and instead pulled out a piece of parchment from his trunk, as well as an ink bottle and a quill. He brushed aside the clock and lamp on the bedside table and lent his parchment on it. The clock made a horrible crunching noise and the lamp’s light bulb shattered as they fell.
Dear Remus,
We have just heard about the attack at the Ministry, and about Percy. We are in London and we need to meet you and the rest of the Order. We have some news. Please return Hedwig with your response as soon as possible, and let me know where we shall meet.
Harry
Harry did not bother to read it through but placed hex on it so that only Remus could read it without it setting alight.
“Hedwig,” he called to his owl. She was perched on top of the wardrobe but came down at his beckoning. He tied the parchment to her leg, hastily. “Be quick about it, and if anyone but Remus tries to read it, peck the living shit out of them and claw the letter up, okay?”
Hedwig hooted her response and he moved quickly to the window, opening it and letting her out. He watched her fly away, and didn’t turn around even after he couldn’t see her anymore.
“Potter …” Harry had forgotten Malfoy was there. He was chewing on his bottom lip nervously and Harry was sure he’d never seen him quite so meek. Harry turned away from him and tried to contain his emotions, the most prominent of which was anger.
Malfoy moved towards him. “Potter, I-”
“I never liked him,” Harry declared, his voice sounding very hollow. “I never liked Percy. He was arrogant and obnoxious and self-righteous. But he was a good person,” Harry choked. “I knew him … I’ve lived with him … he was, for all intents and purposes, m-m-my friend.”
Harry didn’t want to cry. Not because he didn’t think Percy deserved his tears, but because the ripping pain he felt was nothing to what Ron must be feeling and that made Harry feel very selfish and pathetic. Not to mention the incredible feeling of guilt Harry felt. A feeling exacerbated by the fact he felt guilty for his guilt. All his fears and dread seemed to be culminating in one moment, and Harry was finding it unbearable.
“Potter,” Malfoy was right behind him now and Malfoy gently grasped his shoulder, trying to turn him around but Harry stood stock still, trying to hold back his tears. His throat was tight and cold waves of dread kept flowing through him.
“Potter …” Malfoy said again in a soft, cajoling kind of voice that Harry had not thought him capable of. “Potter … Harry?”
Harry gave into Malfoy’s pleadings and turned around. He was spared the searing look of grey eyes as Malfoy immediately pulled Harry against him, wrapping his arms tightly around Harry - one around Harry’s shoulder and the other around his waist. It only took a moment before Harry settled into the embrace, burying his head in Malfoy’s neck and wrapping his own arms around him.
He began to cry embarrassingly. But Malfoy didn’t seem to mind that a practically full grown man was sobbing all over his shoulder in a very childlike way. Malfoy made calming noises in Harry’s ear and ran his hand soothingly up and down Harry’s back. And in that moment, Harry decided that Draco Malfoy was his friend. And he would not be ashamed of it.
For what is a friend but someone who comforts you when you are in the worst moments of your life.
(())
Officer Quiggins of Azkaban Prison watched in horror as a series of dark shapes loomed in the sky. They were a different kind of black to the sky … a discoloured, unnatural black.
Dementors. The Dementors had returned, and judging by the many cloaked figures on broomsticks surrounding them, their new masters were with them.
There was only a moment of hesitation in Quiggins’ mind before he called to his surrounding officers, “Retreat! Retreat! Back to the Ministry!”
The officers left their posts and began sprinting for their lives towards the fireplace. Quiggins let his peers go first, counting them and hoping there would be time to get them all out. There were some in the top tower and it would take two minutes at a full sprint to reach the bottom.
Quiggins could hear the prisoners calling and taunting them, screaming in delight and banging against the bars of their cells. The noise echoed around the fortress, sending fear into their hearts and spurring the Dementors and Death Eaters on as they began their downward journey.
Quiggins ushered his peers into the fireplace as the last remaining officers began to sprint for the main gates, but too late. The Death Eaters began swooping, sparks flying from their wands and the officers began to fall.
Soon Quiggins was all that remained by the fireplace, he scooped up the remaining floo powder and threw it into the fireplace. Green flames instantly rose and Quiggins jumped in.
The feeling of being pulled in several different directions was upon him until at last he fell into the fireplace at the other end.
Quiggins’ breath caught in his throat. The great Floo Hall at the Ministry was a complete mess. The walls and pillars had fallen and chipped everywhere. The paintings had been viciously ripped apart and many fireplaces had been blasted and Quiggins could see the bodies of the young floo guards, spread out across the hall, clearly dead.
It took Quiggins a moment to realise that he was being spoken to as his eyes strayed over the dead body of the young man that guarded the Azkaban Floo. Quiggins snapped his mind to attention as an Auror he was vaguely familiar with spoke to him.
“What the hell happened?” he asked Quiggins, his eyes wide in shock.
“Death Eaters and Dementors. There was no way we could have stopped them there was too many,” Quiggins said breathlessly, unable to focus his eyes when so much destruction was surrounding him. “But what happened here?”
The Auror raised his eyebrows. “Death Eaters and Dementors. Scrimgeour is dead.”
Quiggins tried to process this, but could not. He aptly fainted to the ground.
(())
Narcissa clenched her arm were her mark lay. She was being called.
She pulled the covers of her bed off and ran to her wardrobe. She had no time to think of her fear as she pulled on her robes and slid her mask over her face. One must be prompt when being called by the Dark Lord. He was an impatient man.
Narcissa ran to her fireplace and pulled her floo powder out. You could not Apparate in Malfoy Manor, so the quickest way for Narcissa to reach the Dark Lord was to Floo to Spinner’s End and then Apparate, following the magical pull on her arm.
Before Narcissa could even wonder why she was being summoned, she stood before her master.
She was not alone in the large chamber she’d Apparated to. A great deal of masked wizards and witches circled her. The Dark Lord had summoned his most loyal followers from abroad. This was the Dark Lord’s full inner circle.
“Narcissa,” the Dark Lord hissed at her and she tried her hardest not to flinch. “You may remove your mask.”
Narcissa slid the mask off, and pulled the hood of her cloak down. She could not disguise her fear now.
“I have news, Narcissa. Your husband has returned to us.”
Narcissa snapped her head around and saw Lucius walk towards her. He looked at her indifferently. He looked thinner to Narcissa, but otherwise unchanged. He came and stood beside her.
“My lord,” Lucius said silkily, bowing his head.
The Dark Lord’s eyes glinted. “I have called you both here, to talk of Draco.”
Narcissa’s heart lifted a little. “Have you found him, my Lord?”
He smiled maliciously. “That would make no difference. Do you know why?”
Lucius was wise enough not to answer but Narcissa jumped in, “Why, my Lord?”
The Dark Lord took a deep breath and then spat out, “Because he has defected!” his voice was a poisonous hiss and Narcissa dropped to her knees.
“Surely, my Lord,” she begged, tears falling from her eyes, “surely you are mistaken.”
“I am not mistaken,” he said coldly and Narcissa let out a small wail and clutched her throat.
“Draco is a leader. Others will follow him. I cannot begin to tell you both how very displeased I am about this.” He paced back and forth menacingly and Narcissa could see blood lust in his face.
“I hold you both responsible for this,” he said, turning his gaze to Lucius who bravely did not buckle. “And when I kill him, I shall let him know that his defection was your death warrant.”
The Dark Lord slowly pulled his wand out, his eyes still dangerously fixed on Lucius as Narcissa wailed on the ground.
“Avada Kedavra!” called the Dark Lord. Lucius did not flinch once and when the spell was completed; the Dark Lord turned on his heel and left them.
Lucius turned his head to his now silent wife, her eyes wide open and the glaze of life still faintly in them. He turned away from her, more resolute than ever.
... to be continued.
(())
Author’s Note: Thank you to my beta, AbundantFear.
Next
Here is THE CROOKED HEART
“There is freedom without trying to catch the deluge in a paper cup.” - Neil Finn
Chapter Nine: The Beginning of the End
Harry flicked on the television in the muggle hotel room. The late news was on and an Irish accent reported that there had been no new developments on the recent massacres in England, Germany and Canada.
Harry sighed and looked out the window at the half moon. Harry had been keeping an eye on the muggle news in hopes of hearing more about Death Eater activity. They couldn’t have a copy of the Daily Prophet sent to them without drawing Ministry attention, so muggle intelligence was the best informant they had.
The attack in Surrey had been the first massacre. The very next day a similar attack in Kassel, Germany and the day after that - Winnipeg, Canada. Death Eaters from all over the world were massing and Voldemort was growing in confidence. He would make his final strike soon.
A loud, grunting snore turned Harry’s attention away from the moon outside. Ron and Hermione had both gone to bed a couple of hours before. They were planning to leave Dublin and return to London the next day. They’d had a long day, running around that park, and needed rest.
Malfoy had disappeared into his room almost the moment they’d checked in to the hotel and Harry assumed he was sleeping. With Hermione and Ron sharing the room with the two singles, and Malfoy in the master room, Harry had the couch.
Harry wished he could sleep, but his mind was far too full to calm down enough for it. Harry switched the television off, cutting the German correspondent off.
“Did you mean what you said?”
Harry snapped his head around the couch he was lounging on. Malfoy was standing in the doorway to his bedroom, his arms crossed and his brow furrowed.
“What?” asked Harry.
“Did you mean what you said?” repeated Malfoy.
“Did I mean what?” Harry asked, turning back around as Malfoy walked over to him.
“What you said to me back at your aunt and uncle’s house,” said Malfoy, sitting at the other end of the couch and throwing his legs onto the coffee table. “You said you’d protect me.”
Harry raised his eyebrows. “You remember that? I thought you’d forgotten all about that night.”
Malfoy let out a small sigh. “I had, mostly. I just remembered then.”
“Oh.”
“So,” Malfoy implored. “Did you mean it?”
“I mean most things I say,” replied Harry.
“Is that a yes?” Malfoy asked.
Harry turned his gaze to him. “Why do you care?”
Malfoy looked away from Harry’s scrutinizing stare and cleared his throat. “I just think I might need it, is all. Your protection, I mean.”
“Right,” said Harry, looking away again. “Well, you’ll need protection from Ron and Hermione if you don’t shed some more light on the impending Hogwarts attack.”
Malfoy bristled. “I’ve already told you, I don’t know anything about it. Just that it’s happening.”
Harry didn’t reply. For reasons he didn’t completely understand, he wanted to believe Malfoy; but he couldn’t help being distrustful, no doubt a habit yet to be squashed. Malfoy sat next to him stubbornly though, waiting for Harry to make a response.
“I said I’ll protect you and I will,” said Harry, backtracking,
Malfoy made a face at Harry’s change of subject. “So you will protect me?” he said after a moment, playing a long.
“Well I just said I would,” said Harry impatiently.
Harry had noticed that his conversations with Malfoy for the last couple of days, tended to be awkward and circular. Like they were trying to avoid something, but Harry didn’t know what or why. Prior to this awkwardness, for a day at least, they had got on well and Harry had hopes of them forming some kind of understanding. But right now there was only … well … awkwardness.
They sat in silence for a few seconds, avoiding each other’s eyes when Malfoy suddenly turned to him, a smirk on his face. “Have you really only kissed two girls?”
Harry snapped his head to Malfoy again. “How do you know that?”
Malfoy’s smirk deepened. “Your spectacular Gryffindor-drunk-tattoo-fiesta night. We played truth or dare, remember?”
“Actually no,” said Harry frowning, “I don’t remember.”
“Well that’s how I know,” said Malfoy. “So, just the two?”
Harry looked away. “Yes, just Ginny and Cho Chang. What’s wrong with that?” he asked defensively.
“Nothing,” said Malfoy, mischievously. “It’s just, you know, I’m gay and I’ve kissed more girls.”
“You’re gay?” Harry asked.
“Yes. Also established on aforementioned Gryffindor fiesta,” said Malfoy quickly. “So who was better? The Weasley girl or the Ravenclaw strumpet?”
Harry blushed and cursed himself for doing so. “I dunno,” he said too quickly.
“Sure you do,” said Malfoy in a strange voice that he’d been using on Harry of late. One that made Hermione scowl.
“No I don’t, because I don’t think about things like that,” said Harry, still red in the cheeks.
Malfoy smiled strangely at him and in the back of Harry’s mind he was vaguely aware that Malfoy seemed to be flirting with him. Something Harry would’ve thought a ridiculous notion had Malfoy not just revealed he was gay. This sudden comprehension made Harry’s blush return stronger than ever, and Harry was surprised that he wasn’t completely disgusted by the idea.
“Hmm,” said Malfoy. “Maybe neither was that great? Or maybe you just aren’t that great?”
Harry glared, his face full of indignation. “What do you know about my snogging abilities?”
That smile returned. “Did you have sex with one of them?” Malfoy teased, unaware that the answer to that question was affirmative.
Harry said nothing, but gave himself away by determinedly looking in the other direction and crossing his arms self-consciously.
Malfoy seemed annoyed. “It was the Weasel girl, wasn’t it?” He snorted. “I’m not surprised. I saw you two at school. She looked like she was gagging for it.”
Harry looked angry. “You just shut up and don’t say anything to Ron.”
“Say what? That you think his little sister is a shit snog or a shit shag?”
“I never said that!” shouted Harry, standing quickly.
“You didn’t have to say it. The fact you didn’t say anything was proof enough,” said Malfoy, his strange annoyance gone to be replaced with amusement.
“Well like I said, what would you know?” Harry said, crossing his arms angrily, dimly aware that this conversation was becoming mightily childish. “I suppose you’re just a fabulous snogger?”
“Of course,” said Malfoy with a smirk and little laugh.
“Prove it,” dared Harry.
Malfoy merely raised an eyebrow before standing up and moving towards Harry. Harry threw up his arms to stop him, realizing what he’d just suggested. “Christ, I didn’t mean with me!” He stepped back quickly until his back was to the door of Ron and Hermione’s bedroom.
Malfoy pushed Harry against it and Harry stiffened in shock. “I think you did,” Malfoy said.
Malfoy had a firm hold of Harry’s arms and he was flushed against him more than was appropriate. Harry, being stronger, could have easily pushed him away, but he was frozen to the spot. Malfoy looked at Harry’s face intently and Harry watched, slightly horrified, as Malfoy’s grey eyes swept over his jaw, his cheeks and his mouth before finally coming to rest on his eyes.
“Yes, I think you did mean with me. You just don’t know it yet.” Malfoy let go of Harry’s wrists and stepped back from him. He gave a little smirk before turning on his heel to return to his bedroom, leaving Harry against the wall, trying to form a coherent explanation for what had just happened.
It was awfully difficult to do as his head was full of shining grey eyes.
(())
The next morning, as Ron and Malfoy packed their things in the hotel room, Harry and Hermione walked together to the reception office to pay for the night they’d spent there.
Harry had been careful not to catch Malfoy’s eye - much to Malfoy’s amusement - all morning, and had instead directed all conversation to Ron and Hermione. Unfortunately, like so many things, this behaviour did not go unnoticed by Hermione.
“Did something happen between you and Malfoy last night?” Hermione asked breathlessly, like she’d wanted to ask for some time but hadn’t had the nerve.
“No!” said Harry, quickly and nervously, kicking a stone up from the road. “Why would you think something’s happened?”
Hermione raised her eyebrows knowingly. “Because Malfoy looks smug and you look embarrassed.”
“I don’t look embarrassed!” Harry exclaimed indignantly. Hermione made no response as they walked into the muggle reception office to pay.
Despite Hermione’s earlier reservations on the idea, they had begun bewitching their muggle money. Hermione had agreed to it as it was her fault they had no more. She’d spent the last of it at Diesel and Prada, buying them all clothes.
Harry and Ron had been a little annoyed at her. She was only meant to buy a couple of things for Malfoy, but had come back with - in Harry’s opinion - an entire wardrobe for him. She’d also brought herself and Harry and Ron several tops and trousers that Harry didn’t think they needed and was only extra baggage. Hermione had said she’d take care of that. Apparently Hermione’s idea of taking care of that was throwing out all of Harry and Ron’s other clothes.
They thanked the lady at reception and hoped that she wasn’t blamed when all those pounds were returned to their original form - rocks.
“So,” said Hermione. “Did you have a fight with Malfoy?”
Harry sighed resignedly. “Sort of … er, no. No, not really.”
“Do you know that he’s gay?” Hermione asked carefully.
Harry blushed a little, a reaction that was becoming annoyingly frequent. “Um … yeah. He told me last night.”
“Is that why you’re avoiding him?” Hermione asked disapprovingly. “I mean, there are plenty of reasons to avoid him for which I would completely understand, but his sexuality is not-”
“Hermione!” Harry interrupted. “I don’t care about that. You should know I wouldn’t.”
Hermione took a deep breath. “Okay,” she said. “But there’s something I should tell you.”
Hermione took his arm and directed him away from the little units and across the road to a small park. It was a nice, crisp morning, with the promise of sunshine - the last they were likely to see as winter was fast approaching.
It had obviously rained very early in the morning as they’d slept, as all the play equipment was sopping. Hermione subtly dried the seat of the swings with her wand and they sat down on them.
“So what do you want to tell me?” Harry asked after they’d got a few good runs on the swings - Hermione swinging up high in the air and Harry spinning the two ropes together on the spot and then letting them come undone.
“Well,” said Hermione, dragging her feet in the dirt as the swing slowly swayed back and forth, “it’s a little delicate, this situation. There’s something I know for sure, and then something that I just suspect.”
“Right, well out with it,” said Harry, in a far better mood after his play on the swings.
Hermione nodded her head and bit her bottom lip nervously. “Out with it …” she murmured. “Okay. Malfoy’s attracted to you. He admitted it to me last night when you and Ron were in the park.”
Harry made no response but stilled the little swinging he’d been doing, staring straight ahead.
Hermione took another deep breath. “And even though he didn’t admit to this next part, I think it’s probably true that he’s … well … that he’s into you.”
Harry snapped his head around to her, unable to hold back a smile and keep from saying, “Into me? God, Hermione, how old are you?”
Hermione could not hold back her own smile. “That’s what he said.”
Harry stopped smiling at once and begun comprehending what Hermione’s words meant. “So,” she implored. “How do you feel about that?”
“I don’t know how I feel.”
Hermione frowned, clearly not expecting that answer. “But Harry,” said Hermione. “You can’t not know. You need to go to Malfoy and tell him to get over whatever it is that he’s got for you. Otherwise you’ll just hurt him later on if he really does like you. It’s the worst thing in the world for gay guys to fall for straight guys. They always get hurt.” Hermione looked at him disapprovingly. “Really Harry, what do you mean you don’t know how you feel?”
Harry frowned. “It means what it sounds like it means. And I don’t want to talk about this anymore. There are more important things going on. Like how are we going to warn the Order about the attack on Hogwarts?”
“But Harry-”
“Hermione, please!” shouted Harry impatiently, standing up from his swing. “I know you mean well, but seriously, you need to learn to keep your nose out of other people’s business. If I want to talk to you about something, I’m perfectly capable of starting a conversation.”
He began to stalk off when he heard Hermione shout, “Accio Somna Hedwig!”
Harry turned on his heel and saw Hermione standing tall with her wand in the air.
“What did you just do?”
“I’ve summoned Hedwig to you so you can send an owl to the Order,” Hermione said coldly. “We better get going now, if that’s alright with you Harry.”
She stalked past him, leaving him to ponder on another problem that he now had.
(())
Draco folded his jeans neatly into his duffel bag as Ron stuffed and scrunched his into his trunk.
“Are you angry at your clothes, Weasley?”
“What?” said Ron, disinterestedly, dropping to the ground to pick up his fallen socks.
“The maltreatment of your clothes is what,” said Draco. “I can only assume they have offended you in some way. No doubt they had the nerve to be fashionable.”
“Fuck off, Malfoy,” said Ron, only half-heartedly.
“Careful Weasley, your class is showing through.”
“Whatever,” he said, closing his trunk and shrinking it so it was small enough to put in his pocket.
Draco frowned. Weasley had been far too accommodating of late. Nothing Draco said seemed to get to him, and there was something wrong with the world when there were Malfoy’s and Weasley’s getting along.
Draco didn’t have long to deliberate on this though. Granger smashed through the door, stalked into the bedroom and flicked her wand. Her suitcase immediately began packing itself.
She was followed by Potter, wearing Draco’s second favourite “Harry Face” - the Angry Scowl. Draco winked at him and the angry scowl was replaced, much to Draco’s delight, with his favourite “Harry Face” - the Embarrassed Huff.
“Did you two have a fight?” Weasley asked, concernedly.
“We’re fine,” said Potter, pointedly avoiding Draco’s eye. “Let’s just get going.”
Weasley sighed in acceptance as a series of loud banging sounds came from Hermione bedroom. She was shaking out her towel, viciously beating it against the wall with a furious frown on her face.
“Hermione-” Weasley began.
“We’re fine!” Granger snapped.
Weasley turned away from her and muttered something under his breath that sounded a lot like “bullshit”. Draco had never agreed more with Weasley in his life.
(())
Severus Snape fixed his mask and pulled his robes around himself tightly as the Dark Lord entered the small chamber filled with his inner circle. The identities of these men and women were meant to be secret, though Snape knew most of them and all knew him. Their metal masks hid their facial expressions from view as the Dark Lord approached them.
“I am pleased with you,” the Dark Lord hissed menacingly. “Our annihilation of the muggles has gone well; the Ministry and the Order of the Phoenix have not been able to stop any of it. This informs me that here stand loyal followers, and that pleases me.”
Severus stifled the urge to take a deep breath.
“The day the last line of defense is destroyed fast approaches. Hogwarts Castle will soon be nothing but battle ruins. But first, my faithful followers,” the Dark Lord said carefully, his red eyes sparkling, “there is one more insect to squash, and another snake to be freed.”
Severus was thankful for his long, black robes as he clenched his hands into fists.
(())
MINISTRY OVERRUN, MASS KILLINGS & NO MORE HOPE
This special night edition of the Daily Prophet has been printed and sent out to all Wizarding Family’s. At approximately six o’clock this night, He Who Must Not Be Named’s Death Eaters and other followers (including werewolves, giants and Dementors) stormed the Ministry. Floor after floor became overrun and the Death Eaters killed all in sight.
A Wizengamot was taking place at the time. It was believed to have been the acquittal of suspected Death Eater, Stan Shunpike. The Death Eaters killed all in the Wizengamot Courtroom, including Minister for Magic, Rufus Scrimgeour. A full list of the dead can be found on page three.
There was more but Harry put the paper down and stopped reading out loud, his throat was dry. Hedwig gave a soft hoot, wondering why Harry was not being more appreciative to her presence.
Malfoy was skulking in the back corner of the London hotel room, looking very pale and not making a sound. Hermione was making a sort of whining noise and she was clenching Ron’s arm. Ron’s face was like steel.
“Go to the list of the dead … my whole family works at the Ministry …” Ron whispered.
“They may not have been there!” Hermione declared shrilly.
Harry took a deep breath and turned the page. He carefully ran his hand down the list of the dead, his mind numb and his heart full of dread. He recognised many of the names, Dolores Umbridge among them. Then he came to the W’s. His heart lurched. He looked at his friend, and his stomach dropped to his feet. Hermione clasped her hand over her mouth, her eyes wide and scared.
“I …” Harry tried to speak but nothing came out.
“Who?” Ron screamed loudly, making Harry and Hermione jump. Hermione began to sob.
“P-Percy … Percy’s o-on the list.”
Ron’s face went grey, and then he looked like he was going to laugh. Then suddenly his face crumpled and he buried his face in his hands. Hermione quickly wrapped her arms around him. The room seemed to darken instantly as despair entered and Harry was completely speechless.
This was a sore sight Harry had never witnessed before. He had never seen Ron cry, and now, looking at his best friend’s heaving shoulders, Harry found that he could not watch. He stood up quickly and ran to the bedroom, Hedwig flew in after him and Malfoy dashed in behind her.
Harry said nothing to either of them and instead pulled out a piece of parchment from his trunk, as well as an ink bottle and a quill. He brushed aside the clock and lamp on the bedside table and lent his parchment on it. The clock made a horrible crunching noise and the lamp’s light bulb shattered as they fell.
Dear Remus,
We have just heard about the attack at the Ministry, and about Percy. We are in London and we need to meet you and the rest of the Order. We have some news. Please return Hedwig with your response as soon as possible, and let me know where we shall meet.
Harry
Harry did not bother to read it through but placed hex on it so that only Remus could read it without it setting alight.
“Hedwig,” he called to his owl. She was perched on top of the wardrobe but came down at his beckoning. He tied the parchment to her leg, hastily. “Be quick about it, and if anyone but Remus tries to read it, peck the living shit out of them and claw the letter up, okay?”
Hedwig hooted her response and he moved quickly to the window, opening it and letting her out. He watched her fly away, and didn’t turn around even after he couldn’t see her anymore.
“Potter …” Harry had forgotten Malfoy was there. He was chewing on his bottom lip nervously and Harry was sure he’d never seen him quite so meek. Harry turned away from him and tried to contain his emotions, the most prominent of which was anger.
Malfoy moved towards him. “Potter, I-”
“I never liked him,” Harry declared, his voice sounding very hollow. “I never liked Percy. He was arrogant and obnoxious and self-righteous. But he was a good person,” Harry choked. “I knew him … I’ve lived with him … he was, for all intents and purposes, m-m-my friend.”
Harry didn’t want to cry. Not because he didn’t think Percy deserved his tears, but because the ripping pain he felt was nothing to what Ron must be feeling and that made Harry feel very selfish and pathetic. Not to mention the incredible feeling of guilt Harry felt. A feeling exacerbated by the fact he felt guilty for his guilt. All his fears and dread seemed to be culminating in one moment, and Harry was finding it unbearable.
“Potter,” Malfoy was right behind him now and Malfoy gently grasped his shoulder, trying to turn him around but Harry stood stock still, trying to hold back his tears. His throat was tight and cold waves of dread kept flowing through him.
“Potter …” Malfoy said again in a soft, cajoling kind of voice that Harry had not thought him capable of. “Potter … Harry?”
Harry gave into Malfoy’s pleadings and turned around. He was spared the searing look of grey eyes as Malfoy immediately pulled Harry against him, wrapping his arms tightly around Harry - one around Harry’s shoulder and the other around his waist. It only took a moment before Harry settled into the embrace, burying his head in Malfoy’s neck and wrapping his own arms around him.
He began to cry embarrassingly. But Malfoy didn’t seem to mind that a practically full grown man was sobbing all over his shoulder in a very childlike way. Malfoy made calming noises in Harry’s ear and ran his hand soothingly up and down Harry’s back. And in that moment, Harry decided that Draco Malfoy was his friend. And he would not be ashamed of it.
For what is a friend but someone who comforts you when you are in the worst moments of your life.
(())
Officer Quiggins of Azkaban Prison watched in horror as a series of dark shapes loomed in the sky. They were a different kind of black to the sky … a discoloured, unnatural black.
Dementors. The Dementors had returned, and judging by the many cloaked figures on broomsticks surrounding them, their new masters were with them.
There was only a moment of hesitation in Quiggins’ mind before he called to his surrounding officers, “Retreat! Retreat! Back to the Ministry!”
The officers left their posts and began sprinting for their lives towards the fireplace. Quiggins let his peers go first, counting them and hoping there would be time to get them all out. There were some in the top tower and it would take two minutes at a full sprint to reach the bottom.
Quiggins could hear the prisoners calling and taunting them, screaming in delight and banging against the bars of their cells. The noise echoed around the fortress, sending fear into their hearts and spurring the Dementors and Death Eaters on as they began their downward journey.
Quiggins ushered his peers into the fireplace as the last remaining officers began to sprint for the main gates, but too late. The Death Eaters began swooping, sparks flying from their wands and the officers began to fall.
Soon Quiggins was all that remained by the fireplace, he scooped up the remaining floo powder and threw it into the fireplace. Green flames instantly rose and Quiggins jumped in.
The feeling of being pulled in several different directions was upon him until at last he fell into the fireplace at the other end.
Quiggins’ breath caught in his throat. The great Floo Hall at the Ministry was a complete mess. The walls and pillars had fallen and chipped everywhere. The paintings had been viciously ripped apart and many fireplaces had been blasted and Quiggins could see the bodies of the young floo guards, spread out across the hall, clearly dead.
It took Quiggins a moment to realise that he was being spoken to as his eyes strayed over the dead body of the young man that guarded the Azkaban Floo. Quiggins snapped his mind to attention as an Auror he was vaguely familiar with spoke to him.
“What the hell happened?” he asked Quiggins, his eyes wide in shock.
“Death Eaters and Dementors. There was no way we could have stopped them there was too many,” Quiggins said breathlessly, unable to focus his eyes when so much destruction was surrounding him. “But what happened here?”
The Auror raised his eyebrows. “Death Eaters and Dementors. Scrimgeour is dead.”
Quiggins tried to process this, but could not. He aptly fainted to the ground.
(())
Narcissa clenched her arm were her mark lay. She was being called.
She pulled the covers of her bed off and ran to her wardrobe. She had no time to think of her fear as she pulled on her robes and slid her mask over her face. One must be prompt when being called by the Dark Lord. He was an impatient man.
Narcissa ran to her fireplace and pulled her floo powder out. You could not Apparate in Malfoy Manor, so the quickest way for Narcissa to reach the Dark Lord was to Floo to Spinner’s End and then Apparate, following the magical pull on her arm.
Before Narcissa could even wonder why she was being summoned, she stood before her master.
She was not alone in the large chamber she’d Apparated to. A great deal of masked wizards and witches circled her. The Dark Lord had summoned his most loyal followers from abroad. This was the Dark Lord’s full inner circle.
“Narcissa,” the Dark Lord hissed at her and she tried her hardest not to flinch. “You may remove your mask.”
Narcissa slid the mask off, and pulled the hood of her cloak down. She could not disguise her fear now.
“I have news, Narcissa. Your husband has returned to us.”
Narcissa snapped her head around and saw Lucius walk towards her. He looked at her indifferently. He looked thinner to Narcissa, but otherwise unchanged. He came and stood beside her.
“My lord,” Lucius said silkily, bowing his head.
The Dark Lord’s eyes glinted. “I have called you both here, to talk of Draco.”
Narcissa’s heart lifted a little. “Have you found him, my Lord?”
He smiled maliciously. “That would make no difference. Do you know why?”
Lucius was wise enough not to answer but Narcissa jumped in, “Why, my Lord?”
The Dark Lord took a deep breath and then spat out, “Because he has defected!” his voice was a poisonous hiss and Narcissa dropped to her knees.
“Surely, my Lord,” she begged, tears falling from her eyes, “surely you are mistaken.”
“I am not mistaken,” he said coldly and Narcissa let out a small wail and clutched her throat.
“Draco is a leader. Others will follow him. I cannot begin to tell you both how very displeased I am about this.” He paced back and forth menacingly and Narcissa could see blood lust in his face.
“I hold you both responsible for this,” he said, turning his gaze to Lucius who bravely did not buckle. “And when I kill him, I shall let him know that his defection was your death warrant.”
The Dark Lord slowly pulled his wand out, his eyes still dangerously fixed on Lucius as Narcissa wailed on the ground.
“Avada Kedavra!” called the Dark Lord. Lucius did not flinch once and when the spell was completed; the Dark Lord turned on his heel and left them.
Lucius turned his head to his now silent wife, her eyes wide open and the glaze of life still faintly in them. He turned away from her, more resolute than ever.
... to be continued.
(())
Author’s Note: Thank you to my beta, AbundantFear.
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