Celandine's Chronicle (celandineb) wrote in cels_fic_haven, @ 2007-08-08 20:31:00 |
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Entry tags: | hp fic better than revenge, hp fic draco/harry |
HP fic: Better Than Revenge, ch. 3: In Harry's Room [Harry/Draco, general]
Title: Better Than Revenge
chapter 3, "In Harry's Room"
Author: celandineb
Fandom: HP
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Rating: general
Summary: Harry and Draco visit the graveyard where James and Lily Potter are buried.
Kissing Draco Malfoy was very different from kissing Ginny or even Ron, Harry decided. Ginny's kisses were sweet and eager; Ron's sloppily enthusiastic. The word that came to Harry's mind to describe Draco's was knowing, although he was not sure what he meant by that. More sensual than he would have expected, maybe. But it had already gone on longer than he had intended, so he broke away, pushing up his glasses from where they had slipped down his nose. To cover his reaction, he said, "That what you wanted? Going to calm down now?"
Draco nodded. It looked to Harry as if their kiss had confused the other boy even more than himself, despite the fact that it was Draco who had wanted it. He made use of that distraction to get Draco to agree that if he wanted Harry's help, he would follow Harry's lead. As they began to talk about ways and means, he was impressed by Draco's suggestion that he might contact Ron and Hermione by using the old DA coins; although it reminded him that Draco had used the technique to communicate with the Imperius-cursed Rosmerta, still it was better than the only alternatives Harry could think of, either to leave a message at The Boar and Apple or to wait there themselves. The first was too unreliable, the second too dangerous. Harry was determined not to take Draco back to the Burrow again, which might put the Weasleys at risk.
When he realized that Draco had had no dinner, Harry insisted on getting him some, saying, "Don't worry about the money. You said you don't have any Muggle money, and I do." To cut off Draco's attempt to repay him he added, "Galleons won't be any good to me here." Besides, how much money could Draco possibly have, after being on the run from Voldemort for a month?
However much he had, Draco certainly looked as if he had not been spending it on food. At dinner he ate more than Harry had ever in his life managed at one meal, even at the Burrow with Mrs. Weasley pressing him to take fifth helpings. To keep Draco company, Harry ordered a coffee which was apparently boiled just before it was served him since he had to blow on it before each sip to make it drinkable without scorching his mouth.
He was glad when the meal was over and Draco went to take a shower. Politeness might have kept him from mentioning it, but he had been unable to avoid noticing a certain pungency that reminded him of nothing so much as the Weasley twins' socks left unwashed after two weeks of Quidditch practice. Besides, it gave him a chance to think undisturbed for a few minutes. If he was going to help Draco, to redeem Dumbledore's promise, he could not do it without some assistance. To begin with, it might well take some time before they could find a way to keep Draco safe from Voldemort, and until then he would feel obliged to stay with the other boy, not leave him alone again.
Harry suspected that Draco was uncomfortable without someone else around; he had hardly ever seen him at Hogwarts when not flanked by Crabbe and Goyle, except when he was carrying out prefect duties and then it was Pansy Parkinson instead. Could he, Harry, stand to be around Draco for as long as it took? Tonight's kiss aside – and the very mixed feelings it provoked – there was not much they had in common and plenty to argue about, not a fun way to spend a couple of days, much less weeks or months. Perhaps Hermione or Ron would be willing to travel with them? Harry shook his head at the thought. He was sure that neither would be enthusiastic about the idea, would likely be positively unwilling, given the way Draco had always acted towards them; though admittedly Hermione had given Draco the benefit of the doubt as to his actions several times over the past year. In any case it was not very probable that the Weasleys or the Grangers would allow their children to jaunt around the country for weeks in Harry and Draco's company, not with Voldemort after them. No, it would be up to Harry. He just hoped that the other two Gryffindors would be able to help him come up with some way to hide Draco effectively.
He had gotten no further in his thoughts when Draco came out from the bath. His usually fair skin was flushed pink from the water's heat, and wisps of pale hair curled damply above his ears. Not that Harry was looking. But he could not help noticing how bony Draco was, and how vulnerable that made him appear. Draco was carrying his clothes; evidently he had no notion of how to cope with such mundane matters as soiled laundry. Rather than make him put the dirty clothes back on, Harry offered to clean them, though he could not resist a dig by saying, "If you don't have a house-elf to do your laundry, you learn to manage," before going to shower himself.
A knock on the door interrupted some pleasant thoughts about Ginny, who would have been an unexpected guest much preferable to Draco. "Harry?"
Harry turned down the water so he could hear properly. "What now?"
"Sorry," Draco actually sounded apologetic. "Would you mind if I used your comb?"
His comb? Draco had convinced Harry to risk his own life to help him, someone with whom he had shared a mutual hatred for six years, and the git was worried about borrowing a comb uninvited? He snorted to himself. In for a Knut, in for a Galleon. "Yeah, sure, go ahead. Use the toothbrush too," he called. If Draco had anything contagious, it was too late anyhow.
He had forgotten to bring his pyjamas in with him. It would be far too obvious if he made a big thing about not changing in front of Draco, who at least was polite enough not to watch, although his busy fumbling about at the basin suggested that he was not unaware of what Harry was doing.
As Harry went over to carry out the useless exercise of combing his hair, his attention was arrested by the Dark Mark on Draco's left arm, livid against the pale skin. Harry took Draco's elbow to look more closely, but Draco jerked out of his hands and turned away as Harry touched him.
"Don't."
Thinking of how his scar sometimes ached from the link with Voldemort, Harry asked sympathetically, "Does it hurt?"
"What, now? No," Draco said. "It did when I got it." He moved away, towards the bed. "I'd rather not talk about it if you don't mind."
Harry shrugged to himself. It might be important, but he would not press the matter now. Hermione would doubtless know something about how the Dark Mark might function, possibly even more than Draco himself did. He finished brushing his teeth and went to bed. He could tell that Draco was still awake. If he had been sharing the room with Ron, they would have talked for awhile, maybe fooled around, but Harry could not quite see doing any of that with Draco. He thumped his pillow into a comfortable shape and quickly fell asleep.
His dreams were all of someone whispering urgently, someone who at one moment seemed to be Sirius, the next Dumbledore. He could never hear what the person was saying, but he knew it was important and somehow connected with the Dark Mark that kept appearing in odd places like packets of Bertie Botts' Every Flavor Beans and on the windows of Flourish & Blotts as Harry wandered through a Diagon Alley where no building was in the place it should have been.
When he woke, for a moment he was not sure where he was; an unfamiliar warm body pressed close to his back, and an arm was draped over his waist. Then he saw the pair of wands on the bedside table and realized that both body and arm belonged to Draco Malfoy. Harry wondered if he could disentangle himself without waking Draco. A kiss was one thing. That could be explained as lust, understandable if a bit peculiar, but an embrace meant affection. Harry was not keen on that idea, and he assumed Draco would feel as embarrassed as he was by the hug.
He slid carefully out from under Draco's arm and stood up. Draco gave a little shiver and curled up more tightly, but did not seem to have wakened. Harry looked at the time and saw that it was after eight. Too late for him to go out without Draco and get back in time for breakfast, unfortunately; he remembered that they stopped serving it at nine. He put on his clothes, glad to see through the window that today the sky was mostly blue. Then he shook Draco's bare shoulder.
"You'd better wake up if you want any breakfast."
Draco's grey eyes, suspiciously free of sleepiness, looked up into Harry's own. "All right," he said, and pushed the duvet off.
Down at breakfast, they both ate with good appetite. Harry traded his grilled mushrooms for Draco's tomato, asking casually, "Sleep all right?"
"Fine, thanks." Draco cut off a piece of fried bread and pushed it around in his egg yolk. "You?"
"Yeah," said Harry. "Pass the marmalade, will you?"
Draco handed the pot over and they ate in silence for a few minutes before Draco spoke again. "Harry?"
"What?" Harry was chasing an elusive forkful of baked beans.
"Were you here before? I kept checking at the Weasleys' every few days, hid behind their hedge to try to spot you but you were never there. D'you know they have the worst gnome infestation I've ever seen? Little buggers kept throwing things at me and I didn't dare Stupefy them for fear someone would notice. Finally I managed to overhear one of the Weasleys talking about a wedding and figured you would come for that, but I must have misheard the day, because I was three days too late." Draco's face registered annoyance. "I didn't know whether you'd be back again and I couldn't keep waiting forever, that's why I took the risk in the end and asked Weasley. He just blurted out 'Godric's Hollow' and wouldn't say anything else. I was worried he'd give me away or warn you, so I left as fast as I could. It took me a while to figure out how to get here even so; not exactly a metropolis, is it? So what's the big attraction?"
Harry hardly knew where to begin to answer. He said shortly, "I just came yesterday myself. Before I went to the Burrow for Bill Weasley's wedding I was at my aunt and uncle's house." He made a face. "They're the only family I have. You think yours isn't so great? Try the Dursleys sometime, compared to them I bet your parents are ideal. They're the worst kind of Muggles.
"As for why I'm here..." Harry's mouth stretched in a bitter not-grin. "Are you finished eating? Come with me and you'll see."
He had only Apparated as far as Carlisle the day before, then taken a local bus the rest of the way to Godric's Hollow, so he had seen a bit of the village and knew what direction to go. Draco followed half a step behind as Harry led the way to St. Ceneu's church and the graveyard on its northern side.
It took him nearly fifteen minutes to find the joint grave, methodically working his way through the scattered headstones.
James Potter. Lily Potter. To Harry's surprise, Harry Potter. The dates below. So short a time. Harry reached out to touch the cold stone, sinking down cross-legged next to it. He was dimly aware that Draco had laid a hand on his shoulder before retreating to wait under the yew trees by the gate.
He sat there, head bowed, ignoring the damp that seeped into his jeans from the wet grass. He had thought that coming here would bring him a sense of connection to his parents greater than just seeing pictures of them in the album Hagrid had once given him, but all he felt was desolate. They had gone before he ever knew them at all. Maybe if he found where they had lived, though? He knew he would not recognize the house, but it would be more a part of their lives than this dismal place. Who might be able to tell him where it had been, after almost sixteen years?
Standing up, he brushed at the mud on his backside before walking over to Draco.
"Are you all right, Harry?" Draco sounded worried. Harry wondered why.
"I need to find the vicar," he said.
"Over there, I should think," said Draco, pointing to a tiny one-story cottage that huddled next to the church.
Harry headed for it, Draco again trailing him, silent. He twirled the old-fashioned doorbell handle and waited.
The door eased open and a wrinkled, white-haired man who bore an astonishing resemblance to Professor Flitwick squinted up at Harry. "Yes? Can I help you?"
"My... my aunt and uncle used to live here. I was hoping you might be able to tell me what house they lived in?" asked Harry.
"Oh? Who were they? Come in, come in," the man said, gesturing to them. "Alan Blackburn, I've been vicar here for fifty-three years and if they lived here I knew them. This your brother?" He did not wait for a reply. "I'll get us a cup of tea, sit down."
Harry perched on the threadbare cushions of an ancient sofa, Draco next to him. Blackburn reappeared carrying a tray with a teapot and three mismatched cups. "Here, boys. Now, what were your aunt and uncle's names?"
"Potter," said Harry. "Lily and James Potter."
"Dear me," Blackburn's face crumpled still more with dismay. "I'm sorry, lads, but the Potters' house burned down on the night they died. There's nothing left of it now; the council had the ruins cleared away as an eyesore. Sad thing, that, the two of them and their little boy as well. They never found the baby's body, though. It must have been completely burnt, but we put his name on the marker with his parents' all the same. I'm so sorry I can't help you."
Harry's throat was tight and he could only nod, sipping at his tea.
"Thank you for telling us," said Draco unexpectedly. Harry was annoyed at his presumption. It was Harry's parents who were dead; they were no concern of Draco's.
"No trouble at all. A nice couple, they were. She was from away, I never heard where, but his grandparents lived here and that whole family going back generations, I believe. You could look in the old parish registers if you like; I've never gotten round to sending them to the local record office. I think they've forgotten they're still here," Blackburn said.
"Perhaps another time," Harry managed to reply. "I'm afraid we have to leave Godric's Hollow today."
The vicar looked disappointed, but he accepted their now-empty cups and waved from the front step, calling after them, "Do come back any time and visit."
They walked slowly back to The Boar and Apple, Harry kicking at stray stones as they went. If Draco had spoken, he thought he might have hit him, but the other boy stayed quiet. When they got there, he took a deep breath and faced Draco.
"Ready to try charming that coin, then?"
Draco opened his mouth, shut it again, and finally said, "Yeah. Whatever you say, Harry."
ch. 1 / ch. 2 / ch. 3 / ch. 4 / ch. 5 / ch. 6 / ch. 7 / ch. 8 / ch. 9 / ch. 10 / ch. 11 / ch. 12 / ch. 13 / ch. 14 / ch. 15 / ch. 16 / ch. 17 / ch. 18 / ch. 19 / ch. 20 / ch. 21 / ch. 22 / ch. 23 / ch. 24 / ch. 25 / ch. 26 / ch. 27 / ch. 28 / ch. 29 / ch. 30 / ch. 31 / ch. 32 / ch. 33 / ch. 34 / ch. 35 / ch. 36 / ch. 37 / ch. 38 / ch. 39 / ch. 40