HP fic: Better Than Revenge, ch. 7: Bishops Foxley [Harry/Draco, general]
Title: Better Than Revenge chapter 7, "Bishops Foxley" Author: celandineb Fandom: HP Pairing: Harry/Draco Rating: general Summary: After spending most of the day practicing hexes, they go to Bristol for the night and have a couple of pints in a club; Harry is taken aback when Draco kisses him.
The pavement was too narrow for all three of them to walk abreast on their way to the book shop, and Draco had fallen behind. The back of Harry's neck prickled as he tried to pay attention to what Hermione was telling him, a funny story about Mrs. Weasley and some chickens.
Once they had reached the shop, Hermione insisted on examining at all the possible books on hostels before settling on one to buy. Harry considered that excessive, and Draco seemed to think so too, since he had pulled out a travel guide to Spain instead. After a few minutes, though, he complained about the pictures being no good. It took Harry a moment to realize that Draco was objecting not to the quality or content, but to the fact that they were motionless. Of course. Ron had had the same reaction to Dean's posters of the West Ham football team in their first year, just as Harry had been equally bewildered at seeing pictures that did move for the first time.
Harry gave Draco a sympathetic grin and assured him, "The pictures aren't supposed to move. Muggle pictures don't, not in books."
"Right, of course, I'd forgotten," said Draco hastily, putting the book back. Harry wondered if Draco really had known it. Not that it mattered, but he would not put it past Draco to try to make himself look as good as possible – though who could he be trying to impress?
Having finally chosen and bought a guide and a map, Harry suggested that they ought to pick up a few things for Draco as well. Hermione volunteered to buy a toothbrush, leaving the two boys to acquire underwear and socks. Harry had rarely had new clothes when he was living with the Dursleys, but Aunt Petunia had often dragged him around the shops with Dudley nonetheless, to help carry parcels. He navigated through Marks and Spencer and quickly brought them to the men's clothes. Draco chose some socks while Harry found underwear – he had to check with Draco as to size – and then on their way to the till, Harry spotted a rack of t-shirts that would do for Draco to sleep in, or wear during the day if he liked. Over Draco's half-hearted protests Harry picked out a green one and added it to the pile.
Despite his assurances to Draco earlier in the day that Hermione's parents would see him as just another young school acquaintance of their daughter, privately Harry worried about it. He doubted that Hermione would have told her parents about her various altercations with the Slytherin over the years, but they might remember Draco from seeing him in Flourish & Blotts five years before, when Lucius Malfoy and Arthur Weasley had gotten into a fight. Draco had grown to look very much like his father these days, and even if the Grangers did not recognize his name when he was introduced, they might see the resemblance and recall him unfavorably. Not that Harry would blame them if they did, but it would be awkward at best.
His concern was needless. The Grangers greeted Draco with as much courtesy as himself, and promptly began to regale them both with stories about their own youthful days hosteling. They stopped only when Hermione's comment that it was dinner time reminded them of a prior engagement with some friends, but Mr. Granger left money with Hermione to get a takeaway.
Draco was surprisingly knowledgeable about the menu, asking the man behind the counter if they made their own paneer and looking pleased at the affirmative response. He spent a long time deciding on his choices. Harry let Hermione order for the two of them. He quite liked Indian food but had never eaten enough of it to care what dishes he ate. Onion bhaji, chicken tikka, aloo gobi, it was all the same to Harry.
Back at the Grangers', Harry tried to avoid dripping yogurt sauce on the hostel guide as he flipped through it. They decided that Harry and Draco would go to Bristol the next night, up to a remote place in Yorkshire the second, and then south again to Bath after that. Hermione was the one who chose Bath, since she and Ron would be coming to meet the other two that afternoon to report on any progress they had made in investigating the Dark Mark. Harry could tell that Draco was as unenthusiastic about Bath as he was, but it would only be for one night, and it was surely an improbable place for any Death Eater to be looking for Draco.
Hermione offered to lend them sleeping bags and rucksacks that belonged to her parents, to complete their disguise as Muggle students. While she was off rummaging in a cupboard to find them, Draco looked at Harry quizzically and asked, "Is she always so... managing?"
Laughing, Harry said, "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 looked skeptical and Harry nudged him. "Girls," they both said simultaneously, and in that moment Harry felt almost fond of Draco, whose long-suffering tones matched his own.
Once they had packed up the rucksacks – Harry gave Hermione the case he had borrowed from Mr. Weasley, to return for him – the three of them looked at each other, at a loss. There was nothing more to be done about Draco's situation tonight, and they did not have so much in common that Harry wanted to spend the next two or three hours trying to make conversation with the other two together. Draco had been punctiliously polite to the Grangers, including Hermione, all evening. He had even been addressing her by her first name, which Harry knew must be an effort. But if they all three started talking about wizardly things, who knew what sparks might fly? To head off possible trouble, he suggested that they might simply relax and watch the television for a while. He rather expected Draco to be disdainful of the idea, but the other boy seemed to enjoy most of the programs, if somewhat bewildered by a report on a cricket match.
The Grangers' guest bed, when they went back up to it, was no smaller than the one he had shared with Draco the previous night, Harry was certain. Draco wore his new t-shirt to sleep in, and Harry his pyjamas. Yet somehow he was more aware of Draco's body a few inches away than he would have expected. Harry lifted his head and turned to glance over his shoulder at Draco, who was curled up around a pillow. Draco's eyes were closed, but his breathing was light and irregular, and Harry was almost certain he was still awake. Harry let his head fall back down and shifted to a more comfortable position.
"Harry."
The whisper was so soft he was not sure he had not imagined it, but he responded, "Yeah?" in equally quiet tones.
"Good night," Draco whispered, and his hand slid across the sheet to pat Harry's back.
Harry reached across awkwardly and touched Draco's hand for a moment. "Good night, Draco," he said softly, before letting go and wriggling deeper under the duvet.
Mr. and Mrs. Granger went off early to the dental practice at which they worked, while Hermione, Harry, and Draco were still finishing breakfast. Draco had put on one of the shirts lent him by Mr. Granger, who was equally tall but rather broader through the chest and shoulders. As a consequence the fabric flapped loosely, making Draco appear painfully thin. Mrs. Granger urged second helpings on both him and Harry before she left.
Hermione, meanwhile, rang up the three hostels they had chosen and checked to see if there were beds available. She came off the phone very pleased with herself that she had been able to secure two-bedded rooms for Harry and Draco every night. Harry thought that was an excellent plan. For all Draco's civil behavior to the Grangers, Harry was not entirely convinced that Draco's dislike of Muggles generally would not manifest if he had to share a large dormitory with them.
When Harry asked what Hermione planned to do that day, she said that she would send an owl to the Headmistress to ask permission to use the Hogwarts library. Since she had passed the Apparition test, she could Apparate to Hogsmeade and walk from there to the school. All she had to do was think of some reason to give Professor McGonagall as to why she needed to use the Restricted Section, and knowing Hermione, Harry was sure she would manage with no trouble.
As for himself and Draco, Harry thought that a bit of magical practice would not be a bad way to occupy a few hours.
"Revive the second-year Dueling Club?" Draco said, almost eagerly. "As I recall I had you rather at a disadvantage then."
Harry refrained from mentioning their more recent clashes, which had not all gone Draco's way, and said only, "It won't happen again, believe me."
They Apparated from the Grangers' back garden, with Hermione at the last minute remembering to say that she and Ron would meet Harry and Draco outside the hostel in Bath at five o'clock sharp, and they had better be there. Draco knew of a place in Cornwall that, he assured Harry, would be perfect for practicing any hexes and jinxes they wished without being disturbed by Muggles.
It was a good place. A hollow in the ground in a large field, empty except for a few sheep grazing near a distant fence. A small wood, its shade inviting in the summer sun, formed the northern boundary of the hollow. They piled their rucksacks under a nearby ash and took out their wands.
"I heard that your wand is brother to," Draco paused before finishing, "to You-Know-Who's. Is it true?"
"Yes," said Harry shortly, wondering how Draco had learned that. From his father, probably. "They each have a feather from Fawkes. Professor Dumbledore's phoenix." He did not want to talk about the duel with Voldemort in which that had been most painfully proven. Instead he asked, "What's yours made of? It looks more rigid than most wands."
"Boxwood with dragon heartstring. From Ollivander's, of course." Draco ran his finger along the length of it, almost a caress. "Shall we get started? What did you have in mind?"
Harry took a breath. "I don't think we should actually duel, just practice. We'd better stick to things at least one of us knows the countercurse to, as well; no Madam Pomfrey here to fix us up, we'll have to rely on each other."
Draco looked at Harry with a curious expression on his face. "You trust me to do that?"
"Yeah," said Harry, "I do."
Draco nodded. "Okay, then."
They practiced for the rest of the morning, beginning with simple spells like the Leg-Locker Curse, which Harry recalled Draco having cast on Neville back in their first year at Hogwarts. After that they moved on to more difficult ones, and by early afternoon they had gone through well over a dozen hexes and jinxes, finishing with the Bat-Bogey Hex. Ginny Weasley had always been especially fond of that one, Harry told Draco before he cast it.
"I remember she used it on me in Professor Umbridge's office," said Draco ruefully after he had beaten the bats away from his face and used Evanesco to get rid of them altogether. "It's quite effective."
"It is," agreed Harry. "Time for lunch." He unzipped his rucksack and fished out the parcel of sandwiches Hermione had given them, handing two to Draco and keeping the other two.
"I have the rest of it," said Draco, and passed Harry a somewhat battered apple. "Sorry, I forgot these were in there and they got a bit bashed about. There's a bottle of water too, but we'll have to share it."
They sat in the shade at the edge of the wood to eat. Harry stretched out on his back when he had finished and watched the clouds drifting overhead.
"How'd you know about this place?" he asked Draco lazily.
"I had a great-aunt who lived not far away, at Bishops Foxley. Actually I think she was a fourth cousin twice removed or something like that, but we called her Aunt Tisiphone. She's been dead for years now. We used to visit her every few months and I would come out here to tease the fairies. There was a whole colony of them back among these trees, I expect it's still there. It was deadly dull to listen to all that grown-up talk, and I haven't any cousins anywhere near my age, none that my parents would visit, that is."
"You're lucky," said Harry. "You could've had a cousin like mine, he's horrible. My aunt and uncle give him whatever he wants, so he's spoiled rotten and a bully as well." Belatedly, he realized that his description of Dudley was an equally good fit for Draco. Not wanting to leave it at that, he added, "But he's a fat greedy pig, so I could usually outrun him."
"He's a Muggle, isn't he?" Draco asked.
"Oh yes," Harry said, "he and his parents both."
"It must have been strange, growing up with Muggles."
"Not really," said Harry thoughtfully. "I didn't know I was a wizard, you see. The Dursleys tried to pretend that anything strange didn't really happen, and they told me my parents had died in a car crash because they didn't want to tell me the truth. I only found out when I got the letter from Hogwarts."
"Ah," said Draco. He was putting the remnants of their lunch back into his rucksack and did not seem to know what else he wanted to say.
"Want to practice for a while longer before we go? I'd like to work on deflecting hexes, too," Harry said.
"All right," Draco agreed. "Er, Harry?"
"What?"
"You can conjure a Patronus, right? Could we practice that... not today, but sometime? I've never quite been able to manage it." Draco was still fussing with his rucksack and not looking at Harry.
"Sure," said Harry, "we can do it tomorrow if you like. There's bound to be someplace private enough up near where we're going." The Patronus Charm was one that most of the DA had had some trouble with, so he was not too surprised that Draco had not been successful. He wondered what kind of animal the Slytherin's Patronus would be.
Draco looked relieved. "Thanks."
Harry did need the practice at deflection, and so did Draco. Each of them managed to get past the other's guard more than once that afternoon, leaving Harry horn-tongued and Draco sporting a fine crop of hair on his palms, among other interesting if temporary results.
All jinxes removed, it was time to go on to Bristol. Harry suggested, and Draco agreed, that it would be most sensible to Apparate onto the grounds of the university, which should be relatively uncrowded at this time of year. They could catch a bus from there and arrive at the hostel in proper Muggle fashion.
As Hermione had told them, they had to buy YHA cards from the young woman at the desk, as well as paying that night's tariff. Harry's funds were noticeably depleted afterward, and he decided that he would have to ask Ron or Hermione to visit Gringotts for him soon. The room they were given was small and spare, the farthest from the shared toilets, but as promised it had only two beds and they would not have to share it with any strangers. The hostel offered dinner between six and seven. The cabbage-y aroma drifting through the building dissuaded them from taking up that option, however, and instead they went out into the city evening, wandering through the unfamiliar streets. Eventually Harry bought them kebabs and they found a bench where they could sit and eat.
"How did you manage on your own, without any Muggle money?" Harry asked Draco through a mouthful of minced lamb.
Draco swallowed his naan, grimacing. "It wasn't easy. Mostly I Accio'd things from shops, but I had to be careful so that no one would see."
"Stealing," Harry said.
"Yes, stealing," said Draco defiantly. "I didn't have a lot of choice, did I? And they were only..."
"Only Muggles," Harry finished the sentence for him.
Draco said nothing.
"You won't have to do that any more now,"said Harry. "Hermione will get Bill to change your money, you can pay for what you need then. And don't worry about what I've spent, either. I have plenty in Gringotts, it'll just be a matter of getting it, and she can arrange that too, or Ron will."
"You needn't tell me it's wrong to steal even from Muggles, Harry," said Draco. The light of the street lamp beyond him put the side of his face that Harry could see into shadow, and haloed his head with the gleam off his fair hair. He sounded older, somehow, and Harry saw that his fists were clenched against his thighs.
Harry said, gently, "I wasn't trying to accuse you. Really I was only curious how you had managed; better than I might have, I think."
They had both finished eating by now, and stood up to walk back towards the hostel. A few streets away from it they passed a nightclub with several young people milling around its doors and loud synthesizer music pounding inside. An Eighties-retro night, apparently. On an impulse Harry said, "Want to go in and get a drink?" It was probably meant to be for over-eighteens only, but worth a try.
Draco looked startled, but nodded agreement. Harry paid the three pounds apiece and they threaded their way through assorted clumps of club-goers to reach the bar. There Harry succeeded in obtaining two pints of cider, which sounded fairly safe.
It was so refreshing after their long walk that he quickly ordered another pint for each of them to drink as they watched the dancers. Halfway through the second pint, he decided that for someone used to nothing stronger than butterbeer, it was deceptively strong. By then no fewer than half a dozen girls had shimmied past, casting inviting looks and clearly hoping to be asked to dance by either Harry or Draco. Whatever he had been thinking he might find here, though, none of these girls was it, and he could tell that he was beginning to blink owlishly rather than wink flirtatiously at each fresh appearance. Next to him Draco, who had already finished both his pints, had relaxed alarmingly, leaning against Harry.
This was no good. Harry put down his glass and grabbed Draco's shoulder to shout above the music into his ear, "I think we should leave."
"Leave?"
"Yes, leave, go back and go to bed," said Harry.
"To bed," said Draco. "Okay."
He did not move, however, and Harry had to pry the glass from his fingers and lead him outside. Once out in the cooler night air, Draco seemed to revive somewhat, and walked steadily enough the rest of the way back to the hostel. In their room Harry made quick work of changing for bed while Draco sprawled out with his eyes closed. Harry shook his shoulder before heading off to the toilet. "Draco. Better get undressed for bed, you'll regret it if you fall asleep in all your clothes and your shoes."
When he came back, he saw thankfully that Draco had listened: the clothes he had been wearing were folded neatly in a pile and Harry could see a green-shirted shoulder poking out from under the edge of the sheet. Draco turned over as Harry began brushing his teeth at the basin. His eyes were glittering and his lips parted as if to say something, but he did not speak, only watched Harry moving about the room.
Harry wondered if he was all right. Two pints of scrumpy did not seem enough to have put Draco in this state, even if he were no more used to drinking than Harry was. He went over and knelt next to Draco's bed.
"You okay?" he asked, leaning over. He could smell apples still on Draco's breath.
Draco looked – frightened? thought Harry – but he nodded.
"Sure?" Harry persisted, and suddenly Draco's arm was around Harry's neck, pulling him down.
Unthinkingly Harry resisted, and Draco stopped as quickly as he had begun, letting his hand fall and muttering thickly, "Sorry, I'm so sorry, Harry."
But Harry did not move. He was not exactly unwilling, but if he kissed Draco again he was determined it would be on his own terms. Draco had turned his head away and closed his eyes. Harry ran a fingertip along the line of Draco's jaw and those eyes flew open again just as Harry bent to press his lips against Draco's.
He crawled up onto the narrow bed, pinning Draco's body under his own. He could feel the other boy trembling. "Nothing more than this," Harry pulled away long enough to say, and Draco nodded in frantic agreement, though he was hard against Harry's thigh, already reaching for Harry again. No more. Not yet. It had not been even three days since Harry would have called Draco Malfoy one of the people he loathed most in the world. He was not going to do anything but this for now, no matter how tempting Draco's kisses might be.