Celandine's Chronicle (celandineb) wrote in cels_fic_haven, @ 2007-08-08 20:34:00 |
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Entry tags: | hp fic better than revenge, hp fic draco/harry |
HP fic: Better Than Revenge, ch. 6: At the Grangers' [Harry/Draco, general]
Title: Better Than Revenge
chapter 6, "At the Grangers'"
Author: celandineb
Fandom: HP
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Rating: general
Summary: Draco is surprised by the kindness shown him by Hermione's Muggle parents.
It was humiliating enough to have had to come begging Harry for help, worse still to have inadvertently admitted his more-than-friendly feelings, but positively mortifying to have Harry treat him like an incompetent half the time. Though, to be fair, Harry had trusted him to cast the Protean Charm and complimented him on his success with it. So why did he now seem reluctant to let Draco help with such a simple thing as packing? At least he had not told Draco to wait outside this time. And he was gathering up the wrappers from their sandwiches, an action Draco approved; he held open the carrier bag to let Harry drop them into it. When Harry seemed surprised by that, Draco said, "Only a cretin would leave rubbish around. It reflects poorly on one's upbringing." Not to mention that untidiness could reveal more than one intended about oneself: always dangerous. An empty crisp packet might not seem likely to give away vital information, but one never knew.
He followed Harry back upstairs. With a certain amount of trepidation he risked another dismissal by bringing Harry's toiletries for him to pack, then lay down on the bed to watch him finish. They did not need to leave for the Grangers' quite yet, to Draco's relief. Not that he was worried about behaving improperly before Muggles. Why would he care what they thought? But he did care what Harry thought, so when Harry reminded him that coming for help meant that he ought to show some trust in Harry's judgment, Draco replied, "I do trust you, Harry," with a gesture meant to underline the sincerity of his words.
As he let his hand fall, he brushed Harry's leg, not quite unintentionally. Why waste the chance? He was unprepared for his own reaction, though, which was as great as if the bottle of water he had drunk outside had instead been a delayed-action love potion. Luckily Harry seemed to be distracted by his own thoughts, not paying attention to Draco's sudden arousal. Draco was well aware that this was not the right time to even think about trying to seduce Harry. If there ever would be a right time. Harry mentioned the Weasley girl rather too often for Draco to think that he would be easily persuaded, last night's kiss notwithstanding.
Since Harry had accepted his help packing, Draco reached to pick up the case when they left, but was dismissed with a curt, "It's mine, I'll carry it."
Why did Harry have to be so infuriatingly unpredictable? One time he was fine with Draco doing something, the next not. It made no sense. It was not as if Draco were implying that Harry was too weak to carry his own case; it was just one of the few ways he could even begin to repay the other boy for his help. Annoyed, Draco shouldered open the door to the room and stalked down the stairs. If he had known how to reach the Grangers' house, he might seriously have considered Apparating there alone, out of sheer pique. He was glad he had not, though, when Harry decided that as an extra precaution to keep from getting separated should something go wrong, they should hold hands as they went. This time, Draco had enough warning to keep his response in check. Harry's hand was warm and strong and he only reluctantly released it when they arrived.
He had never gone into a Muggle's home before. A few pubs and shops, yes, and he had spent a number of uncomfortable nights in assorted Muggle back gardens over the past weeks, but not inside one of their houses, and he experienced an almost instinctive revulsion at the thought. But he had no choice. Granger was urging him inside, where Harry had already gone. Unwillingly Draco followed.
In the Grangers' guest room Harry was standing by the window, looking out, and Draco moved towards him, needing to be close to something familiar amid the strangeness. He breathed in the fragrance of the outside air when Granger opened the window, effortlessly identifying the bitter scent as ivy when Harry asked, for Malfoy Manor had been covered with the creeping vines since before he could remember. He would have liked to stay there, so close to Harry that he could smell the tang of sweat on his skin even over the aroma of the sun-warmed flowers.
But Harry was turning away as Granger began talking of the plans they needed to make. Her suggestion that Draco could travel alone took him aback, and he felt a rush of gratitude when, before he could say a word in protest, Harry declared that he would stay with Draco in case Voldemort found him. Thankfulness dissolved again into apprehension at the idea of traveling around and staying at these Muggle hostels – the word was too similar to hostile for Draco's comfort, and that was all he really expected Muggles to be whether or not they identified him as a wizard. He worried, too, about the Mark on his arm being seen and recognized if he was out in public, even if it was only the Muggle public. There could always be a Squib among them, reporting to the Dark Lord. The two Gryffindors seemed unconcerned: typical of their house, Draco thought, never considering the odds properly, willing to rush into danger unprepared. He could not say no to Granger's plan. They would think him a coward. All he could do was insist on contributing what he could to this mad venture, so as Granger and Harry were discussing going to a book shop, Draco interrupted.
"One thing first." He felt in his pocket for the Galleons he had salvaged and pulled out a small, clinking sack. "It's my skin you're trying to save, and I owe you for that. Granger," he could not quite bring himself to call her Hermione even if he was growing used to hearing the name from Harry's lips, "can you have this changed into Muggle money so that Harry needn't pay for everything? It isn't that much, thirty Galleons or so, but it's all I have."
Granger nodded, although she warned him that it would take several days to arrange. Harry said, "Leave your money with Hermione, Draco, I can manage easily until she has a chance. Let's go buy that book."
Draco found that he was oddly reluctant to hand his money over to Granger, though it was his own idea. Steeling himself, he gave the sack to her, saying, "Lead the way."
The other two walked side by side, and once again he found himself following Harry. The book shop was only four streets away, but it felt longer, hearing them chat together when he had nothing to add to the conversation. Granger seemed to be describing some goings-on at the Weasleys' house. That crumbling pile of bricks, only a Mudblood could sound so enthusiastic about it just because a wizarding family lived there. Well, Harry did too. But that was what Harry was like, wasn't it, not judging his friends? He had not criticized Draco's actions last night, either. Draco rested his eyes on the back of Harry's neck, imagining what it would be like to bite him gently just there, and then soothe the skin with lips and tongue afterward. He was roused from his distraction only by their arrival at the shop.
Granger, of course, knew exactly where to find what they wanted, and she and Harry huddled in front of the shelves, comparing the merits of the several books. It was clear that Draco's help was not needed. He picked up another travel guide at random and leafed through it, then stopped, staring at a photograph of Muggle tourists on the Spanish coast, in amazingly varied degrees of dress and undress.
"Harry." He nudged the other boy's shoulder.
"What?" Both Harry and Hermione turned.
Draco held out the book. "Look at this picture. Can you believe it? I don't know what the publisher was thinking."
"It seems fine to me. There's nothing offensive in that," Granger was saying when Harry spoke over her.
"Oh – the pictures aren't supposed to move, Draco, Muggle pictures don't. Not in books." Harry smiled at him, but Draco felt chagrined nonetheless. Would he make mistakes like this all the time, out in the Muggle world? He had known that about their pictures, if he had only remembered it before speaking, and now Harry must think him an idiot. If he could forget something so simple, how would he avoid giving himself away, or looking an utter fool at the least?
"Right, of course, I'd forgotten," Draco mumbled, sure that the other two would believe he was lying, trying to save face. Hastily he shoved the book back on the shelf. "Have you found a book that will do for us?"
"This one looks good. It includes a lot of out-of-the-way places, and has information on the local attractions too. We'll be Apparating rather than taking trains or buses, and that means a lot of free hours," Harry said. "Knowing what's nearby might be useful."
"You'll want a good map too," said Granger in a practical voice, and squatted next to the bottom shelf, running her finger along it, looking for something suitable. She pulled out a brightly-colored folded map and handed it to Harry. "Here."
"I'll pay for them and then we should get back, I suppose," Harry said. "No, hang on, we need to get a few things for Draco first."
"We do?" Draco was unsure what Harry had in mind.
"Yeah, like a toothbrush and maybe some underwear and socks, don't you think?"
"Oh. Sure," Draco said. It felt odd to know that Harry was thinking of him and underwear together, but he could definitely use a spare pair or two. Cleaning spells were all right in their way; still, nothing compared to a real wash, and that meant something to put on in the meantime.
"There's a Marks and Spencer on the next street. You two go there for the clothes and I'll buy the toothbrush. We can meet back at my house, you know the way now. Do you need anything else?" Granger asked. Draco was not sure if she was talking to him or Harry, but Harry replied before he could.
"I don't think so, but thanks, Hermione."
Harry paid for the book and map, then he and Draco headed together in the direction Granger had pointed out.
"Ever gone to a Muggle shop for clothes before?" inquired Harry conversationally as they walked along.
"No, of course not," said Draco, injecting his voice with as much sarcasm as possible. "Come on, where do you think I got these?" He indicated the clothes he was wearing, a quite ordinary Muggle-fashion grey knit shirt and pair of jeans.
"From someone's washing line?" Harry said. "They don't really look Malfoy style."
"Well, actually, yes, these exact ones are, er, purloined. I didn't have a lot of choice, I had no money but I had been wearing my school robes and those were no good," Draco admitted. "But I do own some clothes that aren't wizarding robes, believe it or not, and I have been in Muggle shops before this."
"Good, because Marks and Spencer is nothing like Madam Malkin's," said Harry. "No one to tuck and pin for you."
"That's perfectly all right with me," Draco said. "I don't particularly enjoy being felt up by middle-aged witches." Or, he did not add, young witches either. Young wizards were quite another matter.
"No fear," said Harry, who managed to find what Draco needed in about ten minutes, consulting him in an undertone as to the proper size. Shortly thereafter they were headed back to the Grangers' house, Draco now the proud owner of three new pairs of socks, a like amount of underwear, and a green t-shirt that Harry had insisted he get as well, saying that he could wear it to sleep in.
By the time Draco and Harry got back to the house, Granger's parents had returned. Draco followed Harry's lead, shaking Mr. Granger's hand with no visible reluctance when he was introduced. He determined that the wisest thing was to keep his mouth shut as much as possible and let Harry do the talking.
In the event, even Harry had little chance to speak. Mr. and Mrs. Granger's welcome was followed by an effusion of reminiscences of their own youth, when they had traveled all across Britain, it would seem, after meeting in dental school and before getting married. Draco noticed that Granger – and he had better at least try to think of her as Hermione, he decided, since he should probably address her so in front of her parents – looked singularly uninterested in her mother's rhapsodic description of the Isle of Wight. She had heard it dozens of times, Draco supposed. Eventually she broke in on her father's advice to Harry about where not to go in Cornwall and hinted that dinner might be a good plan.
Mrs. Granger looked flustered. "We hadn't expected you home tonight, dear, since you were staying with the Weasleys, and of course not your friends. Your father and I are supposed to meet the Meads in half an hour for dinner. Would you mind if we just gave you some money to go fetch in a takeaway? There isn't much in the fridge."
"No, that's all right," said Hermione. "Before I forget, though; Dad, could Draco borrow a shirt or two of yours? I was thinking of the ones you wear on holiday, you won't want those for at least a month. Due to some unfortunate circumstances he can't reach his parents at the moment to have them send anything on."
Draco was impressed despite himself at Hermione's carefully phrased request. She had not lied, but she had managed to convey an impression that was far from accurate – almost worthy of a Slytherin, really.
"Borrow whatever you need, Draco, and Harry, you too," Mr. Granger said. "You know where everything is, Hermione."
"Thank you, sir," said Draco and Harry, a breath apart.
"No trouble, don't mention it. Happy to help you young folks, traveling around; I envy you, I really do. You'll have a splendid time on your holiday, I've no doubt." Mr. Granger counted out some notes from his wallet, handing them to his daughter. "There you are. We'll be home by ten-thirty, I expect, so have a good evening, you three."
At Hermione's suggestion they brought in some quite good curry from the nearest Indian takeaway for their meal. As they ate, Harry began paging through the book he had bought, reading out bits that he thought interesting to Draco and Hermione.
"This one's in what used to be a stables... close by this other one is a bridge where someone tried to kill herself by jumping, but her crinoline acted as a parachute... it says there are eleven nightclubs within three streets of this one, we don't need that..."
Draco listened with only moderate interest, chewing on a vegetable samosa. As long as they kept moving and kept away from any Death Eaters – and as long as he could travel with Harry – he did not really care where they went. But when Harry mentioned Salisbury, he spoke up. "Not there, it's too close to my home."
Harry nodded. "Fair enough. Where do you want to go first, then?"
"Er..." Draco had no idea. He looked over Harry's shoulder and turned back a few pages. "How about there?" He stabbed a finger at random.
There, it turned out, was Bristol. Not the most glamorous city, certainly nowhere that anyone with sense would expect Draco Malfoy to go, and that was all to the good. There was a reasonable-looking hostel listed on that page, and Draco shrugged. "Seems fine to me. Harry, you choose for the next night."
"All right. Hermione, shall we plan to meet the evening following? You can pick the third one, then," Harry said. "I choose... somewhere out of the way, I think, how about here? Skirfare Bridge Barn, it's pretty remote. Self-catering but there's a place half a mile away where we could buy a meal. They do say you need your own sleeping bag, though."
"We can lend you those," Hermione reminded them. "You'll want rucksacks, too, if you're planning to look like the other students traveling. Didn't you borrow that case from Mr. Weasley? I can take it back to him for you."
Draco's enthusiasm for looking like an ordinary Muggle teenager was not great, but the disguise was necessary, so he joined Harry in approval of the notion, which she waved away in some embarrassment.
"The third night, how about Bath?" Hermione suggested.
"Bath?" Harry pulled a face, and Draco silently agreed with him. Old-fashioned and dull. Now, if they could go into the old Roman baths, not just to see them but to bathe, that would be different. He could definitely fancy bathing with Harry.
"Yes, Bath. I've always wanted to see it and this would be a good chance, Ron and I can look around a bit before meeting you," said Hermione firmly. "There are supposed to be some lovely old Georgian buildings."
Poor Ron. For the first time in his life, Draco felt sympathy for a Weasley, and wondered if Hermione was always this bossy.
Harry flipped through the book. "There's a hostel in Bath that looks all right. It has some larger dormitories but also five two-person rooms; maybe we can get one of those."
"I'll ring them up tomorrow morning and see, it's a bit late tonight," said Hermione. "Which were the other two places again?" Harry had dog-eared the pages, making Hermione cluck disapprovingly as she set the book down by the telephone to remind herself. "Why don't I get those rucksacks and you can put your gear in them now, have that done with."
After she had disappeared to find sleeping bags and rucksacks to lend them, Draco said in an undertone to Harry, "Is she always so... managing?"
Harry snorted with laughter. "That's a tactful way to put it. Yeah, she is, but she's a good organizer and you get used to her, honestly."
Draco raised an eyebrow at that, and Harry elbowed him in the ribs. "Girls," they said together.
When Hermione came back, Draco and Harry dutifully packed up what they could, and Harry gave Hermione the empty case to return to the Weasleys the next time she went. That much accomplished, Harry suggested that they might see what was on the television. Draco found the programs peculiar, but more interesting than he would have expected of Muggle entertainment. He was rather taken by an archaeological group's excavation of Roman ruins, in fact, although he thought to himself that it would be far easier to manage with spells than with shovels and brushes. By the time Hermione's parents returned, he was tired by the effort of understanding a Muggle sports program, and was more than ready to say goodnight.
The next morning after breakfast, Hermione telephoned their three chosen hostels with great success, triumphantly reporting that by great good luck each had a two-bedded room available on the night they would stay. Draco was thankful for that. Sharing a bed for a second night with Harry had not been restful; he had been much too aware of the other boy to sleep well. On the other hand, he was pleased that they would not have to share a room with Muggle strangers.
"You'll each need to buy a YHA card, it sounds like," Hermione told them, "but they're only about fifteen pounds and you can get them at the hostel."
"What are you going to do today?" Harry asked her. "Once you've got rid of us, that is."
"I'll owl the Headmistress to ask her about using the Hogwarts library. I'll have to think of some reason to give her for researching the Dark Mark." Hermione frowned. "How about you two? Somehow I don't see you touring around Bristol all day."
"We could find someplace private and practice hexes and jinxes, maybe," said Harry thoughtfully.
"Revive the second-year Dueling Club?" Draco suppressed a smile. "As I recall I had you rather at a disadvantage then."
"It won't happen again, believe me," said Harry with a crooked grin and a glint in his green eyes.
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