Butterfly 43 - LM/HP
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Firstly, what happened to The Silver Snitch? It’s been down for weeks! Secondly, what is up with FFNet removing the spaces between words if they’re Italics or Bold? It was very annoying having to put spaces back into Harry’s letter from the last chapter. Very annoying. Is this a new thing that’ll be permanent?
Getting the tattoo this Friday coming for certain, so see you all when my wrist is well enough to type again :P
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Words: 4,274
Chapter 43
November 21st 1994. Hogsmeade.1
Harry wasn’t sure what to think of the place. It was nice, he supposed, but it was a little too much at the same time. Couples were seated at tables dotted around the establishment, and streamers and silk hung as decorations from the walls and the ceiling and the balcony that circled the left side of the room. The stairs to the second floor was covered in tinsel and rose petals, and Harry frowned thinking how much worse this place would look on Valentine’s Day.
“Seriously?” He asked Lucius, turning his head to glance over his shoulder as the elder Wizard tucked him, chair and all, into the table.
Lucius sat himself down, carefully pulling his chair in. He offered a half smile. “Despite the news of our Courtship travelling at a speed even I did not predict, I am still forbidden from taking you off of school grounds. As this is a Hogsmeade weekend, I can meet you here, but it is as far as we’d go. The choices are rather limited, beloved.” He reached out for Harry’s hand, lifting it to his mouth and pressing a soft kiss to his palm. “Here, the Hogs Head, or the Three Broomsticks. Alternatively, we could have just stocked up on candy and hidden ourselves away in the Shrieking Shack.”
“So much choice, Lucius!” Harry exclaimed with a laugh, “so much choice, and you chose Madame Puddifoot’s? How romantic.”
“Hmm, I do try,” Lucius said with a drawl, half-smirking up at his Harry. “What would you like, beloved? My treat.”
“It’d want to be,” Harry said, wearing a grin that clearly showed he was only messing around, “considering it’s a treat in itself for me to be here.” He glanced around the room again, taking in the jar of fireflies suspended from the ceiling, half a disco ball and half a light fixture, the waitresses who wore bright pink dresses with red robes over the top and lace and bows in their hair, and the several Hogwarts aged girls who alternated between giggling at Harry and giggling at their own partners. “Seriously?”
“Hush, you’ll have a good time, I promise.”
It was half an hour later, as Harry worked his way through a rather large portion of treacle tart, that Lucius covered his mouth with one hand and whispered through his fingers. Harry frowned, narrowing his eyes as he tried to make out what Lucius was saying. The hand was there so that no one could lip read, and he was whispering so that no one would overhear, and Harry thought for a moment it was something to do with Voldemort, but then he heard it. It was the only two words he could make out, and perhaps they were the only two words Lucius was saying, repeated over and over.
“Task” and “dragons”.
Harry heard it, and his breath caught in his throat, along with the treacle tart he had been about to swallow. He coughed, wheezing and hacking, even as Lucius moved around to stand behind him and pat him gently on the back. “What?” He breathed at the elder Wizard. “What the fuck?”
“I’ll get the cheque. Stay here and stay silent,” Lucius whispered. He returned moments later, with a complimentary desert in a take-away box because his waitress had insisted on making up for the terrible treacle tart that had almost poisoned Harry, and his purse a few Galleons lighter. “Time to go.”
Lucius steered Harry from the tea-shop, his hand on the small of Harry’s back.
“Well, damn. How did you know?”
“Evan,” was all Lucius would tell him. Harry shrugged, not sure what to do or say to that. Though he supposed if Moody could help him cheat why couldn’t his own father, or his fiancé-type-person? What did he call Lucius, he wondered briefly, glancing up at the man through his fringe. They weren’t engaged, not yet, not until the summer, but that was what the man was aiming for… intended? Lucius had already coined beloved as his pet word, so what did that leave Harry? Lover? Boyfriend, he thought with a grimace; it didn’t sound right at all.
Love?
“Lucius?”
“Yes, beloved,” the man whispered, looking down on the boy he planned to marry with a small smile.
“Was this a Courting gift?”
“No,” Lucius said, chuckling. “This is a date. A bad one, I admit, but there’s always room for improvement, hmm. I’d hate to out do myself the first time and never be able to live up to your expectations!” They laughed together, walking hand in hand through Hogsmeade in the lightly falling snow.
“I love you!” Harry blurted, a blush fanning out across his cheeks.
“I know. And I love you too, beloved, why else would I wish to marry you? For fame? I am infamous. For family? I have a wife and an heir already, beloved, but I would rather have you. For fortune? I have gold and knuts more than I know what to do with. For friendship? Well, that one would be a definite, as well as companionship.”
“I don’t know,” Harry whispered, turning his face away from Lucius’ piercing grey eyes. “I’m so young, and I haven’t even graduated yet. I must seem pretty useless right, in comparison to some of the people you know?”
“You are brilliant, and brave, and beautiful. One of the strongest, smartest people I know, no matter your age. The way Evan tells it, you’ve even managed to wow our Lord, and that is a feat in itself. He is not easily impressed, nor am I. Perhaps at first, it was a fascination to learn about you, about the Horcrux. It used to call out to me, it’s magic and my magic would beg to be one, caressing and tempting me, but you were so young. Then you grew. I watched you grow year after year, age and mature and develop, and your magic never, never stopped calling to me. But it was no longer just about your magic, Harry. You were an amazing person, blossoming in front of my eyes, and there was a sickness inside of me every time I thought of that one person who would capture your heart. I wanted you. I needed you. I think, you were twelve-years-old, no, I knew, you were twelve and it was the day I found you with our Lord’s journal in your hand and I knew I never wanted to see harm come to you. It was that day I knew I loved you, for you, not for what you could offer me. I love you, Harry James Potter Rosier.”
“There’s a ‘Black’ in there somewhere,” Harry told him, his face split in half by the size of his grin, and both cheeks flaming red.
“Yes, and soon to be ‘Malfoy’.” Their mouths met, hot and heavy, with hands tugging at each other’s clothes and hair, lips bruising and teeth nipping, and Harry moaned wantonly, as Lucius pressed a thigh between his own and began rubbing upwards slowly.
“I love you, Lucius.” He whispered when they finally broke apart. They had gathered a bit of an audience, and as they pulled apart a handful of people began clapping, smiling softly at the scene before them.
Ron and Ginny stood side-by-side scowling angrily. “Oi, Potter! Cheating on Granger, are we? Not very nice of you, is it?”
“Oh honestly!” Hermione muttered, pushing her way through the crowd to stand beside Harry and Lucius. “They are Courting, Ronald, as in they plan to get married. Harry has not, nor ever will, be involved with myself. I’m with Viktor now.”
“How is Vicky?” Ron asked snidely. “Getting over you cheating on him with Potter yet?”
Harry reached out to nudge Hermione. The girl rolled her eyes, shaking her head lightly. “Ron found me and Viktor studying together. Apparently, the idiot decided he wants to date me and has been a little prat since.”
“He’s always been a prat.” Harry told her. Hermione and Lucius both fought back smiles, but Ron and Ginny both turned red, scowling furiously.
“Shut up, Potter! You think you’re so great, well you’re not! Course Hermione doesn’t want you; look at you, all chummy with a Death Eater. You’re pathetic. It’s disgusting.”
“Mr Weasley, I dare say that is enough. You may want to bite your tongue before you go too far.” Lucius placed on hand on Harry’s shoulder, squeezing gently as the boy tensed beneath his hand in anger.
“You- You- Don’t fucking talk to me, Death Eater!” Ron’s hands were balled by his side, shaking as his body vibrated with anger. His face was puce now, horrible and ugly. “And you!” He said, turning on Hermione, as jealousy came to life in his chest. First Harry didn’t want to be his friend, like Dumbledore said he would, then Harry chose Malfoy’s family over his family, and now the girl he liked chose Harry and then Viktor fucking Krum over him. It wasn’t fair, and now a Death Eater (a filthy, boot licking servant of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named) was telling him what to do, like he had to follow orders. He wasn’t a servant. Ronald Weasley was better than that, and Harry and Hermione both would see it, eventually! He’d make them see it. “Just because you’re a Mudblood doesn’t mean you can get away with acting like a whore. No one will want to marry you if you keep it up!”
Ron didn’t get a chance to say anymore. He was sitting on his arse in the snow, surrounded by a gaping crowd, as Hermione drew back her fist and blood dripped from the end of Ron’s nose.
“You punched me.”
“You insulted me.” Hermione answered coolly.
“You know, if you were a Pureblood,” Lucius whispered, “you’d be within your rights to have him arrested. It’s slanderous, the comments he’s made about you. Libellous, in fact. Tut, tut, Mr Weasley. I did warn you to bite your tongue.”
“He’s not worth it. Come on, Harry, you and Lucius can join me in the Three Broomsticks. I’m meeting Viktor now.” She cast one more look at Ron, who was slowly getting to his feet with his sister’s help. Harry looked back at them as well, smirking slightly at the dirty look the two redheads sent his way. “Viktor wants to meet you.”
“Oh!” Harry gasped, before reaching out to hold Lucius’ hand. “I can give him the ‘hurt her and I’ll hurt you’ speech.”
“No, you can’t.”
“Yes I can, Mione!” Harry exclaimed. “It’s what friends do.”
“We aren’t friends,” she told him primly, trying not to laugh. “According to the Prophet you’re my ex-boyfriend, and threatening Viktor would be completely out of line.”
Harry glanced at Lucius, who merely rolled his eyes, unaffected by the lies the Prophet were spewing. “Maybe I want to scare him off so I can have you all to myself? Or maybe I want you to dump Viktor for Ron?”
“Merlin forbid,” Hermione mumbled, pushing open the door to the pub. Harry chuckled, following her inside with his hand firmly in the hold of Lucius’.
“Good date?” The blond asked with a raised eyebrow.
“The best,” Harry whispered, raising his head for a quick kiss, just as the door closed behind them.
XXX
November 22nd 1994.
The forbidden forest got quieter as Harry made his way closer to the exit of it. It was almost as if someone had put a silencing charm over part of the area, which was probable considering what was being hidden within it. Dragons did make an awful lot of noise after all.
Hagrid continued to wave until Harry was out of sight. He had always been fond of the boy, even though he wasn’t a Gryffindor and he hadn’t gone after the Philosopher’s Stone, and he was friendly with Malfoys. Harry was a good kid, and it was like Alastor said, it wouldn’t be fair if everyone knew about the dragons but Harry, him being so young and all. He didn’t even want to compete, he didn’t want to be part of the Tournament but someone was making him, and imagine, Alastor had said, if Harry died in the first take because he didn’t know about the dragons even though Hagrid could have told him.
Well, Hagrid thought, grinning widely, waving his pink umbrella in front of him lightly. Harry knew now.
Harry himself was just coming up to the castle when Moody came into view. He stepped out of the shadows, one leg stumbling slightly, made of wood and unable to bend where the knee should have been.
“Good night, Potter?” Alastor asked, his tongue flicking out to wet the edges of his mouth.
“Not bad, considering.” Harry answered him, glancing over his shoulder at the forest.
“Learn anything interesting?” Moody asked, with a grin that bared most of his teeth at once.
“Points for effort, Professor. But I already knew. Thanks anyway.”
Harry went to walk passed the man, but Moody reached out to grab his arm, asking, “how did you know?”
“I’ll keep my secrets,” Harry whispered, as he pulled his arm free. He glanced down to the flask Moody wore on his hip and grin, “and you keep yours. For now.”
Before Alastor could reply, Harry was gone. He ran to the castle, and in through the front doors, slipping down the corridors like a ghost with help from the Marauder’s Map, before entering his own Common Room.
Luna Lovegood was waiting for him on the couch in front of the fire. “Dragons, huh?” She asked him.
Harry didn’t bother asking her how she knew that, instead he smiled, shrugged and said, “Dragons.”
XXX
November 24th 1994.
Hermione had wanted to help him practise for the task. Draco and Theo had even offered, but it was Luna, who had stopped by the Slytherin table the night before the task and whispered “just be yourself”, that had helped him the most. He had spent that day and the day before practising everything he could find that would help him against a dragon, but after Luna’s comment Harry found it a lot easier to relax, to keep calm. Instead of running to the library again, like Hermione wanted, Harry went straight to Hagrid.
Now, this morning, as he was frog marched between two redheaded twins to the newly erected stadium where he was expected to fight against a nesting dragon, he felt much more prepared than he ever had in his life.
“We still need to talk, Harry,” Fred whispered into his ear. Both twins kept a tight hold on Harry’s arms, waiting crushed together at one corner of the Champion’s tent, until the order of their appearance was decided.
“Can’t it wait?”
George looked over at Bagman and Crouch, who were frantically summoning the Champions towards them. “Suppose so, but you can’t avoid us forever, Harry.”
“But I can try.” He shrugged off their hold, offering each of them a small smile, and made his way towards Bagman who was holding out a wiggling pouch that released smoke every now and then.
“Only one left, my boy,” he told Harry, grinning widely as he held the bag out further.
Harry pulled the Hungarian Horntail, and he would be going last.
Cedric, Viktor and Fleur were all in similar states of dishevelment when it was finally Harry’s turn to compete. Even Fleur, who was determined to hate Harry for stealing what should have been her spotlight as the odd-Champion-out, looked at him with sympathy as he took a deep breath and stepped out of the tent.
Lucius and Evan were in the crowd, with his friends’ grouped around them, Lucius’ wife and Severus Snape. Alastor Moody was waiting for him beside the judges, and he nodded sagely as Harry took a deep breath and jumped into the pit with the Horntail. The creature was chained up, in front of a small nest of eggs each the size of Harry’s head and one egg that shimmered and glowed like metal in the light.
The dragon roared as it spotted Harry, taking an earth-shaking step towards the threat and drawing its head back. Before it could spit fire, Harry did what Luna had told him to do. He spoke.
2“Don’t attack me. I’m here to help you.” He hissed at the dragon. The creature reared back, as if struck, and she watched Harry through unblinking eyes for a moment.
“You Speak.” The Dragon snorted, the words sounding muffled, as if they were talking through a medium, or with very heavy accents.
Dragon-speak wasn’t the same as snake-speak, but they were close enough that certain words and phrases would be understandable. If Harry spoke slowly, carefully, the Horntail would understand what he was saying. Now, all he had to do was appeal to her instinct to protect her young, without enticing her to destroy the intruder in the process.
“The ones who took you, who brought you here,” Harry hissed at her, cringing a little as she roared, “WIZARD”, and blew fire at the sky. “Yes, the Wizards who brought you here. They wanted to test you, to test us. This is a game to them, and if we pass you may return home. But your clutch will not, unless I pass.”
The dragon tilted its head to the left, lowering herself down, so that she was hunched before Harry, her face to his face. If she attacked him now he was dead, there was no question of it, and he could hear the crowd screaming for him to run because from where they were standing no one could hear him speaking. To the crowd it looked as if he were just waiting to die. Moody could hear, as could the judges, because they were all close enough to the pit, and the boy and the dragon. Alastor narrowed his eyes, jealousy crossing his features quickly as he wondered whether his father knew, whether that was why Harry Potter was favoured above all others, instead of him? It had once been him. Then the dragon let out a puff of smoke and flame, right into Harry’s unflinching face, and Moody lunged forward in fear. If the boy died… There would be hell to pay. Albus Dumbledore pulled him back, keeping him at the tableside, frozen with fear and anger. But Harry was ok.
“Explain!” The Horntail hissed back at him, her tongue flicking out to lick the soot off of Harry’s un-burnt face.
“There is an intruder in your nest. That one there, the shiny one. When it hatches, it will eat your eggs before they can hatch and protect themselves. My task is to remove it without you killing me, and yours is to kill the real intruder, the egg, before it kills your young. The Wizards are using them for sport, uncaring that it puts your young at risk, that you might not spot the real intruder until it is too late, or that I could die.” Harry paused, folding his arms across his chest and raising his head up, trying to appear brave. “I am here to help you.”
The horntail didn’t speak again. Instead, she stood, walking back to her nest in silence, and laying down, curled around the eggs. She watched Harry a moment long, smoke leaving her nostrils with every breath. “Well, come take the intruder.” She flicked her tail at him and away again, almost like the dragon version of crooking a finger at someone. Harry obeyed, slowly walking towards the clutch with both hands held unthreateningly in front of him. He made a grab for the egg, and backed up hurriedly before the Hungarian Horntail changed her mind. The egg was pressed tightly against his chest, his arms wrapped around it in a desperate attempt to keep his arms from shaking. He might have been prepared for idea of it, but it was still a daunting, terrifying experience. He had faced a dragon, head on, and had come out unharmed. That was more than the other Champions could say for themselves. “Get out of my sight, and destroy the intruder. Tell the Kin we wish to go home now.” Harry followed the dragon’s gaze, landing on the handful of Wizards who had brought the dragons to England in the first place, Ron’s brother Charlie, was in the middle of them.
“Yes, my lady. Thank you.” With the egg in hand, Harry climbed out of the pit and stumbled over to the judges.
Each judge was watching him warily, except Karkaroff. That Wizard gazed at him as if he were the devil incarnate and his hands shook as he held up the enlarged parchment with the number “4” on it. That was Harry’s lowest score. Dumbledore and Bagman had both given him a “10”, even though Dumbledore’s usual twinkle was absent from his blue eyes.
“But you did do very, very well, my boy,” the old man had told him after giving him his score. “Even if I disagree with the methods.”
Crouch Sr. had given him a “9”, and so had Madame Maxime, both looking pale and surprised. But since, as Evan had told him, the Champions winning tactic was exactly that, something that helped them win, no one could speak about it to a competitor until the competition was over. So none of the head teachers could talk amongst themselves about it, or to their competing students, and no one could talk to the press, or to the Ministry officials involved or otherwise. It was the main reason Harry had decided to go ahead with this plan, after Luna had brought it to his attention. No one could talk about him being a Parseltongue; no one could bring up the reminders of his second year: no one needed to know. And he still came out the winner of the first task with “42” points, to Viktor’s “40” in second place.
“By the way,” Harry leant over the table to whisper, “the Horntail said to tell Charlie Weasley that she wants to go home now.”
Harry ignored the ravenous look on Moody’s scarred face, and turned away from the table to head back into the tent where Madame Pomfrey was no doubt waiting for him. The best part about the Oath surrounding the Tournament? Moody couldn’t run off and tell Voldemort his secrets before Harry could. They were Harry’s secrets, and if the man thought he had been mistaken in second year, then who was Harry to correct him. Not until he was ready for Voldemort to know. It certainly wouldn’t be Alastor, or whoever he was, Moody’s place.
XXX
November 30th 1994.
Dobby arrived at Hogwarts that day. He just popped into the Great Hall, and fell into the deepest bow anyone had ever seen a house elf preform.
“Dobby is being a gifty to the great Harry Potter sir, from Dobby’s master, master Lucius sir. Dobby is hoping yous accepting him!” And then the elf lunged forward and wrapped his arms around Harry’s legs, sliding under the bench the boy was sitting on. And it was a good thing Harry was sitting, because Dobby effectively locked his legs together and Harry would have fallen over otherwise.
He remembered Dobby. Dobby used to collect his things from the Hogwarts Express and bring them to Malfoy Manor or Privet Drive and then come back for Draco’s belongings. Dobby would greet Harry first, before Lucius or Narcissa or Draco, his owners. Dobby would happily do anything Harry asked him to, who would warn him if he thought something was dangerous even if it went against Lucius’ orders or Harry’s own. Dobby who was, sort of, Harry’s friend, and now his house elf.
“Master Lucius sir is wanting to get rid of Dobby. But Dobby is happy, because now Harry Potter is being Dobby’s master sir!” The elf cried from his place on the floor beneath the Slytherin table, still hugging Harry’s legs.
There was a letter on the floor where Dobby had been standing, and Harry summoned it to his hands and read it quickly.
Apparently, Dobby was a Courting gift. Dobby was a Malfoy elf, who would risk his life to defend his family even if he didn’t like them, which he didn’t. But he liked Harry and he was bound to Harry and to the Malfoy’s because he was gifted and not freed and it would offer Harry twice the protection this way, just in case Harry needed it. And because Lucius remembered how fond of Dobby Harry had been when he was younger, never getting angry at the nerve-wearing elf, never getting annoyed, who always treated Dobby as if he were wanted.
“Thanks Dobby, you can stand up now. Go home, and tell Lucius that I’m very pleased with you, and I’ll call you back when I need you, ok?” Dobby slid from under the table, offered a wide grin and a low bow, and disappeared from the Great Hall.
“You know you have to free him, don’t you, Harry?” Hermione hissed from behind him. She had snuck over to the Slytherin table as Harry was reading the letter from Lucius, and before he could defend himself, she began another lecture on house elf rights. The rest of the table tuned her out, but because Harry was her friend, he was obligated to at least pretend to listen. So Hermione made herself comfortable beside him, and he nodded his head every now and then, in between taking bites of his breakfast.
XXX
1 - ah, the date of my hospital appointment that I’ve waited over a year for. I bet they’ll tell me there’s nothing wrong with me again, after x-raying the wrong place.
2 - FFNet readers, imagine this is in BOLD. Thanks.
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Thanks for reading. Please let me know what you think. This chapter was terrible. I just could not write it, and I can’t type today. I’m missing every key, like, wtf! Ugh.
Words: 4,202
Chapter 44
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