Fic: The Road to Hogsmeade (Harry/Draco)
TITLE: The Road to Hogsmeade
RATING: PG-13
SUMMARY: “I have something that I need to find,” Malfoy finally said. He dropped his chair back onto all four legs and mirrored Harry’s position with his elbows on the table. “And since you’re so good at finding things...” he trailed off and smirked wickedly.
FANDOM: Harry Potter (Draco/Harry)
STATUS: Temporarily Complete - 5,272 words
DISCLAIMER: I do not own anything. This story is a work of fiction and came from the deepest, darkest, corner of my imagination.
AUTHORS NOTE: Written for 25 days of Draco and Harry @ slythindor100
***
The road to Hogsmeade was covered in snow. Harry tucked his hands deep into the pockets of his jeans and trudged slowly through the ankle deep powder. He considered the merits of erasing his footprints, but quickly decided the night was too beautiful to worry about something so frivolous. It was a spectacular evening, the snow fluttered down gently from the heavens, settling in his hair and on the shoulders of his black cloak. It was cold, but not completely unbearable.
Tipping his head back, Harry breathed in the crisp winter air and smiled softly, his lips pulling up ever so slightly at each corner. These were the days he loved best, out of the castle, on his own in nature, away from eyes that watched him a little too closely... waiting for him to break... waiting for him to do to do something... anything. Anything except what he was doing, which was retreating inside of himself.
He was safe here.
No one could touch him.
Tucking his chin down into his Gryffindor scarf, Harry’s steps smoothed out as he walked closer and closer to Hogsmeade. The snow was firmer here, packed down tight by the hundreds of feet that had walked this path since the last heavy snowfall. Eventually the snow cleared from the path completely and Harry shook the excess snow from his shoes before continuing down the road.
Hogsmeade was relatively quiet at eight o’clock on a weeknight. Those who did happen to be enjoying the sleepy village were eating dinner in the local pub or lingering within their favourite stores, basking in the warmth of the roaring fires. Those that were out on the street wore their warmest winter clothes and huddled close to their partners for warmth.
Harry’s feet didn’t carry him indoors. Despite the chill, there was a spirit in the air that only Christmas could bring. Harry strolled slowly along the main street of Hogsmeade, bright eyes tracing over the elaborate Christmas displays; fairy lights framed every window, ornate Christmas wreaths hung from every door, and the shopkeepers had outdone themselves decorating their shop fronts with Muggle mini Santa’s, elves and any other Christmas decoration that one could even begin to imagine.
It was magical.
Bending down, Harry picked up a handful of snow from the curb and packed it absentmindedly into a snowball. He didn’t throw it; although a couple of people made eye contact warily as if they thought he was going to. Harry flicked the snowball idly from hand to hand before throwing it lightly at a cement bench. It broke into a thousand tiny pieces.
That’s me; Harry thought sadly. He reached out, brushed the snow from the bench with gloved fingers and sat down on the cold concrete with a heavy sigh.
He was quite content to sit here all night.
Movement in his peripheral vision caught his attention and Harry looked up curiously to see Malfoy wandering down the road towards him. Harry looked at the blond Slytherin confused; Malfoy hadn’t seen him, his eyes were on the snow at his feet and he was definitely wandering on his own accord.
Harry breathed an internal sigh of relief. He wouldn’t put it past Ron and Hermione to raise some sort of castle-wide alarm once they found him missing. Seeing a Gryffindor here would be cause for panic, but of all the students in Hogwarts who would stalk him down - Malfoy was not one of them. That knowledge was oddly comforting and Harry glanced away, pretending he had never seen him.
That is, of course, until Malfoy sat down on the concrete bench beside him. Harry immediately stiffened, fighting the automatic reflex to walk away or slide further down the bench. Thrown, Harry peered at Malfoy from the corner of his eye. He didn’t look at Harry or even acknowledge his presence in any way, shape or form. He acted as if Harry didn’t even exist. Harry watched as he pulled a slim novel from the pocket of his coat. The Nutcracker and the Mouse King. Without saying a word, Malfoy opened the volume and started to read.
Harry didn’t know what was more bizarre; that Malfoy had willingly sat down beside him or that the silence between them was a relatively comfortable one. Stretching out his legs, Harry tucked his hands under his arms and let his body relax.
He didn’t know how long they sat there, but Malfoy had made it through a good chunk of his book and the main street was now completely deserted. Shifting from one side to the other on his numb butt cheeks, Harry stood and brushed the stray snowflakes from his hair.
“Do you want to go for a walk?”
He didn’t know what possessed him to ask. Maybe it was because Malfoy’s company had actually been pleasant. He hadn’t nagged him, or asked him how he was, or how he was handling being back in a castle that held so many awful memories. It held painful memories for everyone, not just Harry. He didn’t understand why he had to be the one who was constantly singled out. The war was over, why couldn’t everyone just move on and try to forget that it ever happened?
Draco looked up, his grey eyes finding Harrys. “Why?”
Harry shrugged awkwardly, suddenly very aware that he was propositioning a boy he had despised for seven years. A boy that he still despised. “I don’t know. Why not?”
“I can think of half a dozen reasons. Would you like me to list them for you?” Draco asked snidely.
Just like that, Harry remembered where he was and whom he was with. “Forget it,” he muttered. He turned away and started walking back up the road he came down.
There was a deep sigh behind him and several steps later, Malfoy had caught up with him.
“Where are we going?” Malfoy asked curiously. He slid his hands into the pockets of his coat and glanced at Harry from the corner of his eye.
“I don’t know-” Harry murmured. “Nowhere. Everywhere. Where do you want to go?”
“Anywhere except the castle.”
Harry was more than fine with that. “Three Broomsticks?”
Malfoy considered it. “The Hog’s Head might be better.”
It was an odd request, but the more Harry thought about it, the more it made sense. They were both in Hogsmeade without permission. If they showed up at The Three Broomsticks, especially in each other’s company, word would get back to Hogwarts before they even managed to sit down. Harry nodded. “Fine.”
The Hog’s Head Inn was just as filthy and derelict as Harry remembered. He followed Malfoy to the back of the room and they both sat down at one of the free tables. The Inn had apparently undergone a makeover for the Christmas period - there was a plate of moldy looking cookies on each table. Malfoy wrinkled his nose in distaste and pushed the plate away.
“What can I get you boys?”
Harry looked up and smiled at Aberforth, but he wasn’t looking at Harry; he was looking at Malfoy. Malfoy, being Malfoy, lifted his chin and glared back.
“What are you doing with him?” The question was directed at Harry but Aberforth was still staring at Malfoy.
“Is there a problem?” Malfoy sneered.
“Yes there’s a problem. You should be in Azkaban, that’s the problem.”
Malfoy snarled. “I don’t have to explain anything to you, old man.”
Harry sighed heavily. “Can we not do this?”
Aberforth looked at Harry. “Is he giving you trouble?”
“No. Merlin-” Harry ran an agitated hand through his hair. “Can we just skip the drama and order please? I’m so sick of everyone hovering around. I’m fine. Malfoy’s fine. We’re all fucking fine.”
Now they were both staring at him. Harry sighed and turned his attention out the window, tracing his eyes along the cobbled street and giving himself the time to calm down before he started breaking things.
“Okay,” Aberforth finally said quietly, “I’ll bring over some butter beers.”
“Geeze Potter,” Malfoy said as soon Aberforth was out of earshot. “Did you pick up a case of bipolar over the holidays?”
“No,” Harry said. “I picked up a case of ‘why can’t everyone just get over it and leave me alone’ over the holidays.”
Malfoy pulled off his gloves and tucked them into the pocket of his cloak. “It was a war, Potter. Not a bad outbreak of Pixies.”
“I just...” Harry closed his eyes wearily. “I’ve spent my whole life fighting Voldemort. Now that he’s gone, I just want to spend one day without someone bringing him up. Without someone asking how I am or if I need anything. I just want to pretend, just for a little while, that my life is normal.”
Malfoy stared at Harry bewildered. “Merlin, Potter, I’m not Granger. What did you have to tell me that for? I didn’t come here to have some sort of fucked up heart to heart.”
Harry chuckled dryly. “Hermione would have killed for me to tell her what I just told you.”
“Yeah well, save it for her. I don’t want to hear it.”
Harry’s eyes returned to the window. “Maybe that’s why I told you,” he murmured.
Their drinks came after a short wait. Harry sipped at his slowly watching Malfoy from the corner of his eye as he rocked back in his chair and balanced on two legs. There was a dozen or so other patrons in the Hog’s Head and their constant flow of conversation was white noise when mixed with the soft clink of glasses and the sporadic tinkle of laughter.
The warmth of the room seeped into Harry’s skin and he pulled off his winter cloak, scarf and gloves. “So when you said that you’re not here for a heart to heart... was that your roundabout way of telling me that you are here for something?”
Malfoy looked at Harry carefully, as though debating whether or not to proceed. Bored with waiting Harry rested his elbows on the tabletop and ran his fingers through his slightly damp hair, brushing away the melted snow and no doubt making the black strands stick up like a porcupine.
“I have something that I need to find,” Malfoy finally said. He dropped his chair back onto all four legs and he mirrored Harry’s position with his elbows on the table. “And since you’re so good at finding things...” he trailed off and smirked wickedly.
Harry stared, surprised beyond all belief that Malfoy had the nerve to bring up the horcruxes when it had barely been six months since the final battle. Harry narrowed his eyes.
Malfoy cocked his head. “Are you actually fuming right now, Potter? You’re the one who said you wanted everyone to stop fussing over you. So let me put this in words you’ll understand. I have something I need to find. You seem to be good at finding things. Will you help me, or not?”
Crossing his arms across his chest, Harry frowned. “What are you looking for?”
Malfoy drew something from his pocket and slid it across the table.
It was a photograph. A photograph of an object. A silver necklace with a blood red stone. Harry squinted, it looked like-
“Recognise it?” Malfoy asked.
“The stone looks like a Philosophers Stone,” Harry murmured. “But that’s impossible. Dumbledore destroyed the only known Philosophers Stone in existence eight years ago.”
Malfoy raised an eyebrow. “What makes you so sure?”
Harry shook his head. “He told me it was destroyed. Whether it was or not- this can’t be the same stone. This one is tiny compared to the stone Dumbledore was protecting.”
“Is it possible that the stone was broken down and concealed in jewelry?” Malfoy tapped the photo. “This isn’t exactly an antique looking necklace. This is new.”
Harry squinted at the photo. Malfoy was right. The silver was pristine and designed in a style that Harry commonly saw in London. But the stone- Merlin, it was so familiar. Harry couldn’t shake the feeling that he not only did he recognise the stone, but it was the very same stone he had once held in his hand.
He pushed the photograph back across the table. “Why do you want it?”
“Various reasons. I don’t particularly want to share them with you.” Malfoy tucked the photograph back into the pocket of his robes.
“You just asked for my help finding a necklace and you’re not even going to tell me why you want it?”
Malfoy glared. “Are you going to help me or not?”
“Are you kidding me? You’re the last person in the world I would ever help with anything.”
Malfoy leant back in his chair and observed Harry calmly. His grey eyes held Harry’s easily in the low light of the pub. They were oddly hypnotic.
Harry mirrored Malfoy’s stance. “Tell me what you want with the stone, and I might consider helping you.”
“Piss of, Potter, I’m not crawling to you for anything.”
Harry raised an eyebrow. “You do know that Aberforth is Dumbledore’s brother?”
“I’m aware.”
“Then perhaps you’ve realised that Aberforth was given all of Dumbledore’s possessions.” Harry smirked. “I could probably ask Aberforth nicely if we can see them. That is of course if you tell me why in the hell you’re looking for the philosophers stone.”
Malfoy sighed. “I’m not looking for me, I’m looking for my father.”
“What does he want with it?”
Malfoy rolled his eyes to the ceiling as though he couldn’t believe they were even having this conversation. “He doesn’t want it for anything. He doesn’t want it for himself. In case you didn’t read about it in the news, my mother and father were sentenced to life in Azkaban, Potter. The philosophers stone is a bargaining tool.”
Harry had read about it. He had read about a lot of trials, Malfoy’s included, since the end of the war. “You want to break them out?”
Malfoy met Harry’s eyes and held them. “I want my family back. Wouldn’t you give anything to have your parents with you, Potter?”
He made a good point, and Harry knew well enough that at the end of it all, the Malfoy’s had just wanted to start all over. Maybe it was because of that, or maybe Harry was just bored, and lost, and sick of sitting around trying to pretend that life was normal when it most certainly wasn’t. But, for whatever reason Harry found himself nodding.
“Okay. I’ll help you.”
*
Aberforth stood at the bar, slowly wiping down glasses with a dirty dish rag. Harry left Malfoy at the table and crossed the room, inching around a long table filled with middle aged witches and wizards, before stepping up to the bar and leaning his elbows on the edge of the surface.
“Sorry about before,” Harry apologised. “Things have just been... a little overwhelming since the end of the war.”
Aberforth put down one glass and started on another. “Nothing to apologise for. The war was hard on everyone, it’s going to take some time to adjust.”
Harry nodded and bit his lip. “Listen, um... when Dumbledore died, all of his things were given to you, right?”
“That’s right. There wasn’t a lot. Most of it stayed at Hogwarts. But I do have some things, yes.”
“Here?”
Aberforth lifted an eyebrow.
Harry blushed. “It’s just, I’m sort of searching for something to remember him by, you know. Everything that he ever gave me was my own or passed down from my mum or dad. I never had anything that was his.”
“Well there are some things in storage. Not here, though. You’ll have to go to Diagon Alley. I had all his stuff shipped to one of the storage rooms above Flourish and Blotts.”
Bingo.
Harry tried to keep his expression neutral. “Oh, okay.”
“If you’re ever in the area you should drop by,” Aberforth continued. “I never sorted through all that junk. The password is just what you’d expect it to be.” He reached under the bar and pulled out a badly wrapped gift and slid it across to Harry. “Here, Merry Christmas by the way.”
Harry’s eyed widened in surprise. “Oh, I didn’t get you anything.”
“It’s nothing too exciting. Open it.”
Swallowing thickly, Harry untied the ribbon and ripped open the paper. Inside was a box, Harry lifted the lid curiously. At first he thought nothing was inside, but then he realised there was one thing in the box - a mirror. The other end of Harry’s shattered two way mirror in fact.
“I thought you might be able to use it for something more exciting than I ever could.” Aberforth smiled. “You don’t need me watching over you anymore, Potter.”
“Thank you,” Harry said. He looked up into Aberforth’s bright twinkling eyes. “I’m not sure what I could use it for, but thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He paused and nodded over to where Malfoy still sat. “You be careful with him, you hear? I don’t care what the Wizengamot decided, that boy is trouble.”
Harry nodded. “I’ll remember.”
“Good. You boys should get back to school. It’s late.”
“We will. Thanks for the drinks.”
“You’re welcome.”
*
“What’s with the box?”
Harry slid back into his chair and set the unwrapped box on the table. “It’s an early Christmas present.”
“Isn’t it bad luck to open a gift before Christmas morning?” Malfoy poked the box like it was diseased. “You’re supposed to put it under the tree and wait like the rest of the world.”
Harry stared at Malfoy bemused. “I just went over there and got information about your stupid necklace and all you can talk about is Christmas superstitions?”
Malfoy crossed his arms over his chest. “It’s a valid concern.”
“It’s not,” Harry assured him. “It’s not even close to being appropriate right now.”
Malfoy waved a hand dismissively. “So? What did you find out?”
“We need to pay a visit to Diagon Alley.”
“Diagon Alley?” Malfoy repeated. “That’s inconvenient.”
“Aberforth has all of Dumbledore’s possessions stored in some storage space above Flourish and Blotts.”
Malfoy swallowed down the last mouthful of his drink. “By possessions you mean books and expensive objects, right? Not underwear, teddy bears, and embarrassing Christmas pajamas?”
Harry stared at Malfoy for a moment. He wanted to roll his eyes, but aside from the examples Malfoy gave, he had a valid point. Harry hadn’t exactly clarified which possessions Aberforth had in storage. “I honestly don’t know.”
“I guess we’ll have to go check it out then.”
“Now?” Harry checked his watch. “It’s past midnight, Malfoy.”
“Are you trying to make a point?”
Harry sighed. “No.”
“Excellent. Let’s go.”
***
“Which door is it?”
“I don’t know.”
“I thought you said you knew the password.”
“I never said that.”
“The old man wouldn’t have told you to come here unless you knew the password,” Malfoy reasoned.
“Just, shut up a minute. I’m thinking.”
They had apparated to Diagon Alley without any problems. They had even managed to track down the storage rooms above Flourish and Blotts. But now, with an endless hallway of locked doors before them, Harry was starting to think he could have asked Aberforth for more information. Harry reached out and turned the knob of the closest door. It opened easily enough, but on the other side - another hallway of endless doors.
Malfoy whistled under his breath. “Impressive.”
Harry closed the door with a soft click. “The way Aberforth was talking, I was expecting an old, dusty, storage cupboard.”
“Okay.” Malfoy backed up a couple of steps, leant back against one of the doors and sunk his hands into the pockets of his pants. “Let’s think. What exactly did the guy who hates me say to you?”
Harry wracked his brains. “He said that a lot of Dumbledore’s stuff is still at Hogwarts, but the stuff that Aberforth was given he shipped here. He said-” Harry shrugged. “He said that I’d know the password.”
“But you don’t know it?”
Harry shook his head.
“Great,” Malfoy sighed. “What do we do now then? I swear, if we get through that door and all there is are a couple of trunks of underpants, I’m going to be pissed.”
“Maybe...” Harry bit his lips. “Maybe it’s a sweet.”
“Excuse me?”
“At Hogwarts,” Harry explained, pacing back and forth. “The password to Dumbledore’s office was always a sweet-”
“What, like a Fizzing Whizbee?”
The long corridor around them dissolved into a single polished door with a golden handle. Harry smiled. “Just like a Fizzing Whizbee.”
“It’s a good idea,” Malfoy admitted. “You could wander in that corridor for days, just opening doors that only lead to more doors. It’s like Gringotts... but dustier.”
Harry opened the door curiously and peaked inside.
Malfoy covered his eyes with both hands. “How bad is it?”
“What?” Harry looked at him bewildered. “What are you expecting? Pixies?”
“I’m thinking more along the lines of tiny underwear and kinky toys. I mean, you don’t know what Dumbledore got up to in his free time.”
“Whatever he got up to, I’m pretty damn sure it wasn’t that.” Harry pushed the door open further, revealing a medium sized, dusty room packed to the brim with boxes.
Malfoy peered over Harry’s shoulder. “I thought you said Aberforth only got a couple of things.”
“I guess his idea of a couple is a little more than mine.” Harry stepped over the threshold and stared around the room. He flicked his eyes over boxes of all shapes and sizes, some labeled with odd symbols that Harry didn’t understand, but most just a smooth expanse of brown cardboard.
“We’d need a whole dinner party to go through these boxes,” Malfoy breathed, slipping past Harry and walking further into the room. There was a narrow alley between the boxes that loomed above them and Malfoy walked the five or six paces to the end of the room.
“This is going to take forever.”
*
“What in the world?”
Harry looked up to see Malfoy extracted a plastic turkey from the box he was riffling through. “Is that a turkey?”
Malfoy looked up, eyes wide. “I take back everything I said. I’d prefer gross underwear. Plastic food is just weird.” Malfoy flicked the turkey back into the box like it was contaminated, “Who buys a plastic turkey? And more importantly, who keeps it?”
“Dumbledore does apparently. He was always eccentric.”
“Plastic food, Potter? That’s not eccentric, that is just plain weird. And more importantly, it’s now very unlikely that Dumbledore keeps his jewelry in the same room that he keeps his food.” Malfoy shoved the box away and started in on another.
Harry riffled through his own box. He didn’t even know what ninety percent of this stuff was, but he continued to look anyway. What else was he supposed to do at midnight in Diagon Alley? They may as well take their time, because they were both going to be in a lot of trouble when they managed to make it back to the castle.
Shoving one box away, Harry started in on another. “Can I ask you a question?” he asked as he opened a box full of Christmas decorations. He nudged aside some mistletoe and a cracker before dismissing the box entirely an opening another.
“That depends entirely on the question.”
“How did you stay out of Azkaban?”
Malfoy looked up from his box and lifted an eyebrow.
“I’m serious.”
“I know you are.” Malfoy pondered the merits of answering for a moment before shrugging. “The Wizengamot trialled me as a minor and basically decided to send me back to Hogwarts to finish my education. It’s not that I didn’t stay out Azkaban, it’s just that the decision is being withheld until I graduate.”
Harry looked up. “So the second you graduate, they toss you back into Azkaban?”
“I don’t know. It depends on a lot of things, I guess.”
He talked about it as though he was merely discussing the weather. Harry stared. “How can you be so blase about this? Life in Azkaban is nothing to be relaxed about.”
Malfoy met his eyes. “You don’t think I belong there?”
Harry let out a breath. “I don’t know. I used to think I knew a lot of things... I’m not so sure anymore.”
Malfoy rolled his eyes, closing one box and opening another. “Don’t give me that crap, Potter.”
“Well, it’s true.” Harry frowned. “If I truly hated you and thought you should be locked up in Azkaban, then I wouldn’t be here with you.”
“You’re here with me,” Malfoy cut in,” because you’re floundering. You’re a great big, frozen, empty field that is just looking for a little bit of sunlight so it can live again.”
Harry raised an eyebrow. “Did you seriously just compare me to a landscape?”
“Yes, do you have a problem with that? It was a good-” Malfoy broke off and dug deeper into his box.
“Did you find something?”
Malfoy extracted a handful of letters. Flipping them over, he checked the return address and smirked. “Potter, how good is your history knowledge?”
“It’s okay, why?”
“How familiar are you with a Nicholas Flamel?”
Harry blinked. “Are those...”
Malfoy held them up. Visible, even across the room was the return address of the one and only Nicholas Flamel.
“Bingo,” Harry murmured. He stood and kicked the mess of boxes aside, creating a path to Malfoy. When he was close enough he reached out and took the letters, flicking through the envelopes quickly. “Even if we have his address, that doesn’t mean he is still alive. The way I heard it, Flamel had just enough elixir to set his affairs in order, then he and his wife would pass away.”
“Just because the old coot is dead doesn’t mean we can’t have a poke around his old house and see what we can find.” Malfoy stood and peered at the letters over Harry’s shoulder. “Shall we go then?”
Harry looked up surprised by Malfoy’s words and even more surprised to find the blond so close. Harry stumbled back a step, putting some much needed distance between them. “Now? Malfoy we can’t go frolicking all over the country.”
“Why not? If we go back to the castle we’ll probably be under lock and key for the next century.” Malfoy paused. “Or they’ll just toss me into Azkaban because I may or may not have broken the terms of my court agreement.”
Harry’s eyes widened. “Please tell me you’re joking.”
Malfoy eyes widened innocently. “It may have slipped my mind to mention that.”
“Bloody hell!” Harry reached out and shoved Malfoy by the shoulders. “What in the hell are you thinking! You could land us both in bloody prison!”
“Oh relax,” Malfoy drawled, he brushed his shoulders as though wiping the filth of Harry away from him. “This has nothing to do with you. It’s not as though you’re harboring a fugitive.”
“No,” Harry agreed bitterly. “Hogwarts is doing that.”
Malfoy sighed dramatically. “You don’t have to come, Potter. You’re more than welcome to go back to the castle. I’m not forcing you to be here.”
He had a point and Harry internally debated it before throwing up his arms. “We can’t go to Flamel’s, we haven’t finished with these boxes.”
“Plastic turkey’s, Christmas decorations, a collection of scarves-” Malfoy ticked them off on his fingers. “Dumbledore didn’t even give his beloved books to Aberforth, let alone a priceless artifact. It isn’t here, Potter.”
Harry crossed his arms over his chest. “Fine, we’ll go to Edinburgh.”
Malfoy grinned. “Excellent.”
*
It was colder. How was that even possible? Harry shivered and crossed his arms over his chest. They had apparated to the outskirts of Edinburgh into a long residential street. The houses were vast and beautiful here and Harry scanned his eyes along them, vaguely intrigued.
Malfoy apparated with a pop a second later, appearing next to Harry and immediately tucking his scarf a little closer around his neck. “Merlin,” he breathed, his words fogging out into the air before them. “A goblet of Butter Beer would go down really well right now.”
Harry bounced up and down on his toes. “Let’s get this over with, it’s cold.”
Malfoy dug the letters out of his pocket and double checked the address. “Number three.”
Harry nodded at the large house before them. “That’s it.”
The house, unlike every other on the street, was dark. No light shone through the windows and no presence moved inside. Malfoy started down the path and Harry followed him up onto the doorstop. Pulling out his wand, Malfoy began a complicated series of incantations that Harry was too cold to pay much attention to. He sunk his hands deep into the pockets of his coat and stepped a little closer to Malfoy’s back, knowing he was infringing in the other boys personal space, but too cold to really care. After a couple of moments the door clicked open and Harry let out a tiny sigh of relief. His breath puffed over Malfoy’s cheek and Malfoy glared before moving away and over the threshold. “Let’s do this, Potter.”
“What is it exactly that we’re looking for?” Harry asked, stepped into Flamel’s home and closing the door behind him softly. They both illuminated their wands and held them high, revealing a vast empty foyer. The furniture was all covered in white sheets and the effect under wand light was oddly eerie.
“I’m not sure yet,” Malfoy murmured, crossing the room and stepping into the next. Harry trailed after him, looking around curiously.
They made their way up the grand staircase and roamed in and out of bedrooms and bathrooms. The house had clearly been empty for a long time, a thin layer of dust covered everything and muffled their combined footsteps against the wooden floor.
Malfoy pushed open another door at random and nodded. “Nice tub.”
Harry peaked over his shoulder. The bathroom was enormous and dominated by a large bathtub that would give even the tub in the Prefects bathroom at Hogwarts a run for its money. Harry slipped around Malfoy and took a couple of steps into the dark room. He looked around and shrugged helplessly. “There is nothing here. Unless you want to get naked and have a bath, there is nothing in this house, Malfoy.”
Malfoy came up beside him and unwound the scarf from his neck. “What do you suggest then?”
“I think the answers could be in those letters,” Harry admitted softly. “Let’s just go back to Hogwarts, take a couple of days, read the correspondence, do some research, then we can from the beginning. We’re on a wild goose chase at the moment, Malfoy. We’ll never find the necklace like this.”
Malfoy let out a breath. “It pains me to admit it, but you’re right.” He passed half of the letters to Harry. “Let me know if you find anything.”
Harry took them and nodded. “I will.”
“And hey, listen.” Malfoy squirmed awkwardly. “Thanks for tonight. We didn’t get anywhere or find anything, but it was a start.”
“You’re welcome.”
RATING: PG-13
SUMMARY: “I have something that I need to find,” Malfoy finally said. He dropped his chair back onto all four legs and mirrored Harry’s position with his elbows on the table. “And since you’re so good at finding things...” he trailed off and smirked wickedly.
FANDOM: Harry Potter (Draco/Harry)
STATUS: Temporarily Complete - 5,272 words
DISCLAIMER: I do not own anything. This story is a work of fiction and came from the deepest, darkest, corner of my imagination.
AUTHORS NOTE: Written for 25 days of Draco and Harry @ slythindor100
***
The road to Hogsmeade was covered in snow. Harry tucked his hands deep into the pockets of his jeans and trudged slowly through the ankle deep powder. He considered the merits of erasing his footprints, but quickly decided the night was too beautiful to worry about something so frivolous. It was a spectacular evening, the snow fluttered down gently from the heavens, settling in his hair and on the shoulders of his black cloak. It was cold, but not completely unbearable.
Tipping his head back, Harry breathed in the crisp winter air and smiled softly, his lips pulling up ever so slightly at each corner. These were the days he loved best, out of the castle, on his own in nature, away from eyes that watched him a little too closely... waiting for him to break... waiting for him to do to do something... anything. Anything except what he was doing, which was retreating inside of himself.
He was safe here.
No one could touch him.
Tucking his chin down into his Gryffindor scarf, Harry’s steps smoothed out as he walked closer and closer to Hogsmeade. The snow was firmer here, packed down tight by the hundreds of feet that had walked this path since the last heavy snowfall. Eventually the snow cleared from the path completely and Harry shook the excess snow from his shoes before continuing down the road.
Hogsmeade was relatively quiet at eight o’clock on a weeknight. Those who did happen to be enjoying the sleepy village were eating dinner in the local pub or lingering within their favourite stores, basking in the warmth of the roaring fires. Those that were out on the street wore their warmest winter clothes and huddled close to their partners for warmth.
Harry’s feet didn’t carry him indoors. Despite the chill, there was a spirit in the air that only Christmas could bring. Harry strolled slowly along the main street of Hogsmeade, bright eyes tracing over the elaborate Christmas displays; fairy lights framed every window, ornate Christmas wreaths hung from every door, and the shopkeepers had outdone themselves decorating their shop fronts with Muggle mini Santa’s, elves and any other Christmas decoration that one could even begin to imagine.
It was magical.
Bending down, Harry picked up a handful of snow from the curb and packed it absentmindedly into a snowball. He didn’t throw it; although a couple of people made eye contact warily as if they thought he was going to. Harry flicked the snowball idly from hand to hand before throwing it lightly at a cement bench. It broke into a thousand tiny pieces.
That’s me; Harry thought sadly. He reached out, brushed the snow from the bench with gloved fingers and sat down on the cold concrete with a heavy sigh.
He was quite content to sit here all night.
Movement in his peripheral vision caught his attention and Harry looked up curiously to see Malfoy wandering down the road towards him. Harry looked at the blond Slytherin confused; Malfoy hadn’t seen him, his eyes were on the snow at his feet and he was definitely wandering on his own accord.
Harry breathed an internal sigh of relief. He wouldn’t put it past Ron and Hermione to raise some sort of castle-wide alarm once they found him missing. Seeing a Gryffindor here would be cause for panic, but of all the students in Hogwarts who would stalk him down - Malfoy was not one of them. That knowledge was oddly comforting and Harry glanced away, pretending he had never seen him.
That is, of course, until Malfoy sat down on the concrete bench beside him. Harry immediately stiffened, fighting the automatic reflex to walk away or slide further down the bench. Thrown, Harry peered at Malfoy from the corner of his eye. He didn’t look at Harry or even acknowledge his presence in any way, shape or form. He acted as if Harry didn’t even exist. Harry watched as he pulled a slim novel from the pocket of his coat. The Nutcracker and the Mouse King. Without saying a word, Malfoy opened the volume and started to read.
Harry didn’t know what was more bizarre; that Malfoy had willingly sat down beside him or that the silence between them was a relatively comfortable one. Stretching out his legs, Harry tucked his hands under his arms and let his body relax.
He didn’t know how long they sat there, but Malfoy had made it through a good chunk of his book and the main street was now completely deserted. Shifting from one side to the other on his numb butt cheeks, Harry stood and brushed the stray snowflakes from his hair.
“Do you want to go for a walk?”
He didn’t know what possessed him to ask. Maybe it was because Malfoy’s company had actually been pleasant. He hadn’t nagged him, or asked him how he was, or how he was handling being back in a castle that held so many awful memories. It held painful memories for everyone, not just Harry. He didn’t understand why he had to be the one who was constantly singled out. The war was over, why couldn’t everyone just move on and try to forget that it ever happened?
Draco looked up, his grey eyes finding Harrys. “Why?”
Harry shrugged awkwardly, suddenly very aware that he was propositioning a boy he had despised for seven years. A boy that he still despised. “I don’t know. Why not?”
“I can think of half a dozen reasons. Would you like me to list them for you?” Draco asked snidely.
Just like that, Harry remembered where he was and whom he was with. “Forget it,” he muttered. He turned away and started walking back up the road he came down.
There was a deep sigh behind him and several steps later, Malfoy had caught up with him.
“Where are we going?” Malfoy asked curiously. He slid his hands into the pockets of his coat and glanced at Harry from the corner of his eye.
“I don’t know-” Harry murmured. “Nowhere. Everywhere. Where do you want to go?”
“Anywhere except the castle.”
Harry was more than fine with that. “Three Broomsticks?”
Malfoy considered it. “The Hog’s Head might be better.”
It was an odd request, but the more Harry thought about it, the more it made sense. They were both in Hogsmeade without permission. If they showed up at The Three Broomsticks, especially in each other’s company, word would get back to Hogwarts before they even managed to sit down. Harry nodded. “Fine.”
The Hog’s Head Inn was just as filthy and derelict as Harry remembered. He followed Malfoy to the back of the room and they both sat down at one of the free tables. The Inn had apparently undergone a makeover for the Christmas period - there was a plate of moldy looking cookies on each table. Malfoy wrinkled his nose in distaste and pushed the plate away.
“What can I get you boys?”
Harry looked up and smiled at Aberforth, but he wasn’t looking at Harry; he was looking at Malfoy. Malfoy, being Malfoy, lifted his chin and glared back.
“What are you doing with him?” The question was directed at Harry but Aberforth was still staring at Malfoy.
“Is there a problem?” Malfoy sneered.
“Yes there’s a problem. You should be in Azkaban, that’s the problem.”
Malfoy snarled. “I don’t have to explain anything to you, old man.”
Harry sighed heavily. “Can we not do this?”
Aberforth looked at Harry. “Is he giving you trouble?”
“No. Merlin-” Harry ran an agitated hand through his hair. “Can we just skip the drama and order please? I’m so sick of everyone hovering around. I’m fine. Malfoy’s fine. We’re all fucking fine.”
Now they were both staring at him. Harry sighed and turned his attention out the window, tracing his eyes along the cobbled street and giving himself the time to calm down before he started breaking things.
“Okay,” Aberforth finally said quietly, “I’ll bring over some butter beers.”
“Geeze Potter,” Malfoy said as soon Aberforth was out of earshot. “Did you pick up a case of bipolar over the holidays?”
“No,” Harry said. “I picked up a case of ‘why can’t everyone just get over it and leave me alone’ over the holidays.”
Malfoy pulled off his gloves and tucked them into the pocket of his cloak. “It was a war, Potter. Not a bad outbreak of Pixies.”
“I just...” Harry closed his eyes wearily. “I’ve spent my whole life fighting Voldemort. Now that he’s gone, I just want to spend one day without someone bringing him up. Without someone asking how I am or if I need anything. I just want to pretend, just for a little while, that my life is normal.”
Malfoy stared at Harry bewildered. “Merlin, Potter, I’m not Granger. What did you have to tell me that for? I didn’t come here to have some sort of fucked up heart to heart.”
Harry chuckled dryly. “Hermione would have killed for me to tell her what I just told you.”
“Yeah well, save it for her. I don’t want to hear it.”
Harry’s eyes returned to the window. “Maybe that’s why I told you,” he murmured.
Their drinks came after a short wait. Harry sipped at his slowly watching Malfoy from the corner of his eye as he rocked back in his chair and balanced on two legs. There was a dozen or so other patrons in the Hog’s Head and their constant flow of conversation was white noise when mixed with the soft clink of glasses and the sporadic tinkle of laughter.
The warmth of the room seeped into Harry’s skin and he pulled off his winter cloak, scarf and gloves. “So when you said that you’re not here for a heart to heart... was that your roundabout way of telling me that you are here for something?”
Malfoy looked at Harry carefully, as though debating whether or not to proceed. Bored with waiting Harry rested his elbows on the tabletop and ran his fingers through his slightly damp hair, brushing away the melted snow and no doubt making the black strands stick up like a porcupine.
“I have something that I need to find,” Malfoy finally said. He dropped his chair back onto all four legs and he mirrored Harry’s position with his elbows on the table. “And since you’re so good at finding things...” he trailed off and smirked wickedly.
Harry stared, surprised beyond all belief that Malfoy had the nerve to bring up the horcruxes when it had barely been six months since the final battle. Harry narrowed his eyes.
Malfoy cocked his head. “Are you actually fuming right now, Potter? You’re the one who said you wanted everyone to stop fussing over you. So let me put this in words you’ll understand. I have something I need to find. You seem to be good at finding things. Will you help me, or not?”
Crossing his arms across his chest, Harry frowned. “What are you looking for?”
Malfoy drew something from his pocket and slid it across the table.
It was a photograph. A photograph of an object. A silver necklace with a blood red stone. Harry squinted, it looked like-
“Recognise it?” Malfoy asked.
“The stone looks like a Philosophers Stone,” Harry murmured. “But that’s impossible. Dumbledore destroyed the only known Philosophers Stone in existence eight years ago.”
Malfoy raised an eyebrow. “What makes you so sure?”
Harry shook his head. “He told me it was destroyed. Whether it was or not- this can’t be the same stone. This one is tiny compared to the stone Dumbledore was protecting.”
“Is it possible that the stone was broken down and concealed in jewelry?” Malfoy tapped the photo. “This isn’t exactly an antique looking necklace. This is new.”
Harry squinted at the photo. Malfoy was right. The silver was pristine and designed in a style that Harry commonly saw in London. But the stone- Merlin, it was so familiar. Harry couldn’t shake the feeling that he not only did he recognise the stone, but it was the very same stone he had once held in his hand.
He pushed the photograph back across the table. “Why do you want it?”
“Various reasons. I don’t particularly want to share them with you.” Malfoy tucked the photograph back into the pocket of his robes.
“You just asked for my help finding a necklace and you’re not even going to tell me why you want it?”
Malfoy glared. “Are you going to help me or not?”
“Are you kidding me? You’re the last person in the world I would ever help with anything.”
Malfoy leant back in his chair and observed Harry calmly. His grey eyes held Harry’s easily in the low light of the pub. They were oddly hypnotic.
Harry mirrored Malfoy’s stance. “Tell me what you want with the stone, and I might consider helping you.”
“Piss of, Potter, I’m not crawling to you for anything.”
Harry raised an eyebrow. “You do know that Aberforth is Dumbledore’s brother?”
“I’m aware.”
“Then perhaps you’ve realised that Aberforth was given all of Dumbledore’s possessions.” Harry smirked. “I could probably ask Aberforth nicely if we can see them. That is of course if you tell me why in the hell you’re looking for the philosophers stone.”
Malfoy sighed. “I’m not looking for me, I’m looking for my father.”
“What does he want with it?”
Malfoy rolled his eyes to the ceiling as though he couldn’t believe they were even having this conversation. “He doesn’t want it for anything. He doesn’t want it for himself. In case you didn’t read about it in the news, my mother and father were sentenced to life in Azkaban, Potter. The philosophers stone is a bargaining tool.”
Harry had read about it. He had read about a lot of trials, Malfoy’s included, since the end of the war. “You want to break them out?”
Malfoy met Harry’s eyes and held them. “I want my family back. Wouldn’t you give anything to have your parents with you, Potter?”
He made a good point, and Harry knew well enough that at the end of it all, the Malfoy’s had just wanted to start all over. Maybe it was because of that, or maybe Harry was just bored, and lost, and sick of sitting around trying to pretend that life was normal when it most certainly wasn’t. But, for whatever reason Harry found himself nodding.
“Okay. I’ll help you.”
*
Aberforth stood at the bar, slowly wiping down glasses with a dirty dish rag. Harry left Malfoy at the table and crossed the room, inching around a long table filled with middle aged witches and wizards, before stepping up to the bar and leaning his elbows on the edge of the surface.
“Sorry about before,” Harry apologised. “Things have just been... a little overwhelming since the end of the war.”
Aberforth put down one glass and started on another. “Nothing to apologise for. The war was hard on everyone, it’s going to take some time to adjust.”
Harry nodded and bit his lip. “Listen, um... when Dumbledore died, all of his things were given to you, right?”
“That’s right. There wasn’t a lot. Most of it stayed at Hogwarts. But I do have some things, yes.”
“Here?”
Aberforth lifted an eyebrow.
Harry blushed. “It’s just, I’m sort of searching for something to remember him by, you know. Everything that he ever gave me was my own or passed down from my mum or dad. I never had anything that was his.”
“Well there are some things in storage. Not here, though. You’ll have to go to Diagon Alley. I had all his stuff shipped to one of the storage rooms above Flourish and Blotts.”
Bingo.
Harry tried to keep his expression neutral. “Oh, okay.”
“If you’re ever in the area you should drop by,” Aberforth continued. “I never sorted through all that junk. The password is just what you’d expect it to be.” He reached under the bar and pulled out a badly wrapped gift and slid it across to Harry. “Here, Merry Christmas by the way.”
Harry’s eyed widened in surprise. “Oh, I didn’t get you anything.”
“It’s nothing too exciting. Open it.”
Swallowing thickly, Harry untied the ribbon and ripped open the paper. Inside was a box, Harry lifted the lid curiously. At first he thought nothing was inside, but then he realised there was one thing in the box - a mirror. The other end of Harry’s shattered two way mirror in fact.
“I thought you might be able to use it for something more exciting than I ever could.” Aberforth smiled. “You don’t need me watching over you anymore, Potter.”
“Thank you,” Harry said. He looked up into Aberforth’s bright twinkling eyes. “I’m not sure what I could use it for, but thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He paused and nodded over to where Malfoy still sat. “You be careful with him, you hear? I don’t care what the Wizengamot decided, that boy is trouble.”
Harry nodded. “I’ll remember.”
“Good. You boys should get back to school. It’s late.”
“We will. Thanks for the drinks.”
“You’re welcome.”
*
“What’s with the box?”
Harry slid back into his chair and set the unwrapped box on the table. “It’s an early Christmas present.”
“Isn’t it bad luck to open a gift before Christmas morning?” Malfoy poked the box like it was diseased. “You’re supposed to put it under the tree and wait like the rest of the world.”
Harry stared at Malfoy bemused. “I just went over there and got information about your stupid necklace and all you can talk about is Christmas superstitions?”
Malfoy crossed his arms over his chest. “It’s a valid concern.”
“It’s not,” Harry assured him. “It’s not even close to being appropriate right now.”
Malfoy waved a hand dismissively. “So? What did you find out?”
“We need to pay a visit to Diagon Alley.”
“Diagon Alley?” Malfoy repeated. “That’s inconvenient.”
“Aberforth has all of Dumbledore’s possessions stored in some storage space above Flourish and Blotts.”
Malfoy swallowed down the last mouthful of his drink. “By possessions you mean books and expensive objects, right? Not underwear, teddy bears, and embarrassing Christmas pajamas?”
Harry stared at Malfoy for a moment. He wanted to roll his eyes, but aside from the examples Malfoy gave, he had a valid point. Harry hadn’t exactly clarified which possessions Aberforth had in storage. “I honestly don’t know.”
“I guess we’ll have to go check it out then.”
“Now?” Harry checked his watch. “It’s past midnight, Malfoy.”
“Are you trying to make a point?”
Harry sighed. “No.”
“Excellent. Let’s go.”
***
“Which door is it?”
“I don’t know.”
“I thought you said you knew the password.”
“I never said that.”
“The old man wouldn’t have told you to come here unless you knew the password,” Malfoy reasoned.
“Just, shut up a minute. I’m thinking.”
They had apparated to Diagon Alley without any problems. They had even managed to track down the storage rooms above Flourish and Blotts. But now, with an endless hallway of locked doors before them, Harry was starting to think he could have asked Aberforth for more information. Harry reached out and turned the knob of the closest door. It opened easily enough, but on the other side - another hallway of endless doors.
Malfoy whistled under his breath. “Impressive.”
Harry closed the door with a soft click. “The way Aberforth was talking, I was expecting an old, dusty, storage cupboard.”
“Okay.” Malfoy backed up a couple of steps, leant back against one of the doors and sunk his hands into the pockets of his pants. “Let’s think. What exactly did the guy who hates me say to you?”
Harry wracked his brains. “He said that a lot of Dumbledore’s stuff is still at Hogwarts, but the stuff that Aberforth was given he shipped here. He said-” Harry shrugged. “He said that I’d know the password.”
“But you don’t know it?”
Harry shook his head.
“Great,” Malfoy sighed. “What do we do now then? I swear, if we get through that door and all there is are a couple of trunks of underpants, I’m going to be pissed.”
“Maybe...” Harry bit his lips. “Maybe it’s a sweet.”
“Excuse me?”
“At Hogwarts,” Harry explained, pacing back and forth. “The password to Dumbledore’s office was always a sweet-”
“What, like a Fizzing Whizbee?”
The long corridor around them dissolved into a single polished door with a golden handle. Harry smiled. “Just like a Fizzing Whizbee.”
“It’s a good idea,” Malfoy admitted. “You could wander in that corridor for days, just opening doors that only lead to more doors. It’s like Gringotts... but dustier.”
Harry opened the door curiously and peaked inside.
Malfoy covered his eyes with both hands. “How bad is it?”
“What?” Harry looked at him bewildered. “What are you expecting? Pixies?”
“I’m thinking more along the lines of tiny underwear and kinky toys. I mean, you don’t know what Dumbledore got up to in his free time.”
“Whatever he got up to, I’m pretty damn sure it wasn’t that.” Harry pushed the door open further, revealing a medium sized, dusty room packed to the brim with boxes.
Malfoy peered over Harry’s shoulder. “I thought you said Aberforth only got a couple of things.”
“I guess his idea of a couple is a little more than mine.” Harry stepped over the threshold and stared around the room. He flicked his eyes over boxes of all shapes and sizes, some labeled with odd symbols that Harry didn’t understand, but most just a smooth expanse of brown cardboard.
“We’d need a whole dinner party to go through these boxes,” Malfoy breathed, slipping past Harry and walking further into the room. There was a narrow alley between the boxes that loomed above them and Malfoy walked the five or six paces to the end of the room.
“This is going to take forever.”
*
“What in the world?”
Harry looked up to see Malfoy extracted a plastic turkey from the box he was riffling through. “Is that a turkey?”
Malfoy looked up, eyes wide. “I take back everything I said. I’d prefer gross underwear. Plastic food is just weird.” Malfoy flicked the turkey back into the box like it was contaminated, “Who buys a plastic turkey? And more importantly, who keeps it?”
“Dumbledore does apparently. He was always eccentric.”
“Plastic food, Potter? That’s not eccentric, that is just plain weird. And more importantly, it’s now very unlikely that Dumbledore keeps his jewelry in the same room that he keeps his food.” Malfoy shoved the box away and started in on another.
Harry riffled through his own box. He didn’t even know what ninety percent of this stuff was, but he continued to look anyway. What else was he supposed to do at midnight in Diagon Alley? They may as well take their time, because they were both going to be in a lot of trouble when they managed to make it back to the castle.
Shoving one box away, Harry started in on another. “Can I ask you a question?” he asked as he opened a box full of Christmas decorations. He nudged aside some mistletoe and a cracker before dismissing the box entirely an opening another.
“That depends entirely on the question.”
“How did you stay out of Azkaban?”
Malfoy looked up from his box and lifted an eyebrow.
“I’m serious.”
“I know you are.” Malfoy pondered the merits of answering for a moment before shrugging. “The Wizengamot trialled me as a minor and basically decided to send me back to Hogwarts to finish my education. It’s not that I didn’t stay out Azkaban, it’s just that the decision is being withheld until I graduate.”
Harry looked up. “So the second you graduate, they toss you back into Azkaban?”
“I don’t know. It depends on a lot of things, I guess.”
He talked about it as though he was merely discussing the weather. Harry stared. “How can you be so blase about this? Life in Azkaban is nothing to be relaxed about.”
Malfoy met his eyes. “You don’t think I belong there?”
Harry let out a breath. “I don’t know. I used to think I knew a lot of things... I’m not so sure anymore.”
Malfoy rolled his eyes, closing one box and opening another. “Don’t give me that crap, Potter.”
“Well, it’s true.” Harry frowned. “If I truly hated you and thought you should be locked up in Azkaban, then I wouldn’t be here with you.”
“You’re here with me,” Malfoy cut in,” because you’re floundering. You’re a great big, frozen, empty field that is just looking for a little bit of sunlight so it can live again.”
Harry raised an eyebrow. “Did you seriously just compare me to a landscape?”
“Yes, do you have a problem with that? It was a good-” Malfoy broke off and dug deeper into his box.
“Did you find something?”
Malfoy extracted a handful of letters. Flipping them over, he checked the return address and smirked. “Potter, how good is your history knowledge?”
“It’s okay, why?”
“How familiar are you with a Nicholas Flamel?”
Harry blinked. “Are those...”
Malfoy held them up. Visible, even across the room was the return address of the one and only Nicholas Flamel.
“Bingo,” Harry murmured. He stood and kicked the mess of boxes aside, creating a path to Malfoy. When he was close enough he reached out and took the letters, flicking through the envelopes quickly. “Even if we have his address, that doesn’t mean he is still alive. The way I heard it, Flamel had just enough elixir to set his affairs in order, then he and his wife would pass away.”
“Just because the old coot is dead doesn’t mean we can’t have a poke around his old house and see what we can find.” Malfoy stood and peered at the letters over Harry’s shoulder. “Shall we go then?”
Harry looked up surprised by Malfoy’s words and even more surprised to find the blond so close. Harry stumbled back a step, putting some much needed distance between them. “Now? Malfoy we can’t go frolicking all over the country.”
“Why not? If we go back to the castle we’ll probably be under lock and key for the next century.” Malfoy paused. “Or they’ll just toss me into Azkaban because I may or may not have broken the terms of my court agreement.”
Harry’s eyes widened. “Please tell me you’re joking.”
Malfoy eyes widened innocently. “It may have slipped my mind to mention that.”
“Bloody hell!” Harry reached out and shoved Malfoy by the shoulders. “What in the hell are you thinking! You could land us both in bloody prison!”
“Oh relax,” Malfoy drawled, he brushed his shoulders as though wiping the filth of Harry away from him. “This has nothing to do with you. It’s not as though you’re harboring a fugitive.”
“No,” Harry agreed bitterly. “Hogwarts is doing that.”
Malfoy sighed dramatically. “You don’t have to come, Potter. You’re more than welcome to go back to the castle. I’m not forcing you to be here.”
He had a point and Harry internally debated it before throwing up his arms. “We can’t go to Flamel’s, we haven’t finished with these boxes.”
“Plastic turkey’s, Christmas decorations, a collection of scarves-” Malfoy ticked them off on his fingers. “Dumbledore didn’t even give his beloved books to Aberforth, let alone a priceless artifact. It isn’t here, Potter.”
Harry crossed his arms over his chest. “Fine, we’ll go to Edinburgh.”
Malfoy grinned. “Excellent.”
*
It was colder. How was that even possible? Harry shivered and crossed his arms over his chest. They had apparated to the outskirts of Edinburgh into a long residential street. The houses were vast and beautiful here and Harry scanned his eyes along them, vaguely intrigued.
Malfoy apparated with a pop a second later, appearing next to Harry and immediately tucking his scarf a little closer around his neck. “Merlin,” he breathed, his words fogging out into the air before them. “A goblet of Butter Beer would go down really well right now.”
Harry bounced up and down on his toes. “Let’s get this over with, it’s cold.”
Malfoy dug the letters out of his pocket and double checked the address. “Number three.”
Harry nodded at the large house before them. “That’s it.”
The house, unlike every other on the street, was dark. No light shone through the windows and no presence moved inside. Malfoy started down the path and Harry followed him up onto the doorstop. Pulling out his wand, Malfoy began a complicated series of incantations that Harry was too cold to pay much attention to. He sunk his hands deep into the pockets of his coat and stepped a little closer to Malfoy’s back, knowing he was infringing in the other boys personal space, but too cold to really care. After a couple of moments the door clicked open and Harry let out a tiny sigh of relief. His breath puffed over Malfoy’s cheek and Malfoy glared before moving away and over the threshold. “Let’s do this, Potter.”
“What is it exactly that we’re looking for?” Harry asked, stepped into Flamel’s home and closing the door behind him softly. They both illuminated their wands and held them high, revealing a vast empty foyer. The furniture was all covered in white sheets and the effect under wand light was oddly eerie.
“I’m not sure yet,” Malfoy murmured, crossing the room and stepping into the next. Harry trailed after him, looking around curiously.
They made their way up the grand staircase and roamed in and out of bedrooms and bathrooms. The house had clearly been empty for a long time, a thin layer of dust covered everything and muffled their combined footsteps against the wooden floor.
Malfoy pushed open another door at random and nodded. “Nice tub.”
Harry peaked over his shoulder. The bathroom was enormous and dominated by a large bathtub that would give even the tub in the Prefects bathroom at Hogwarts a run for its money. Harry slipped around Malfoy and took a couple of steps into the dark room. He looked around and shrugged helplessly. “There is nothing here. Unless you want to get naked and have a bath, there is nothing in this house, Malfoy.”
Malfoy came up beside him and unwound the scarf from his neck. “What do you suggest then?”
“I think the answers could be in those letters,” Harry admitted softly. “Let’s just go back to Hogwarts, take a couple of days, read the correspondence, do some research, then we can from the beginning. We’re on a wild goose chase at the moment, Malfoy. We’ll never find the necklace like this.”
Malfoy let out a breath. “It pains me to admit it, but you’re right.” He passed half of the letters to Harry. “Let me know if you find anything.”
Harry took them and nodded. “I will.”
“And hey, listen.” Malfoy squirmed awkwardly. “Thanks for tonight. We didn’t get anywhere or find anything, but it was a start.”
“You’re welcome.”