HP fic: Better Than Revenge, ch. 12: At St. Mary's Churchyard [Harry/Draco, general]
Title: Better Than Revenge chapter 12, "At St. Mary's Churchyard" Author: celandineb Fandom: HP Pairing: Harry/Draco Rating: general Summary: Draco is forced to go with Ron to get chocolate when Harry flips out, and finds that Ron isn't quite so bad as he always thought, though he is jealous that it is Hermione who gets to talk to Harry and settle him down.
Together. Draco savored the word. He knew that Harry meant no more than that he would help protect Draco as best he could, yet it gave him a curious thrill to hear Harry say it. Though his arm still ached he could set the pain aside and let his thoughts linger instead on how it had felt to be with Harry, before that interruption. It allowed him to sleep, when he might have expected to be unable to.
In the morning they left quickly. Draco suspected, from the intensity of the Mark's burning, that Voldemort might be nearby, and suggested they should go somewhere distant for the day, but not directly to Bath. It seemed safer not to spend any more time than necessary in a single place. Harry chose Brighton – why, Draco could not at first imagine, but eventually Harry's enjoyment at watching the antics of the Muggle holiday-makers coaxed Draco into a good humor as well.
He was sufficiently cheerful, by the time they Apparated to Bath, to regale Harry with bits and pieces of information about Roman habits as they wandered through the restored ancient baths. Some Malfoy ancestor had been fascinated by that era, and had amassed an enormous collection of both wizard- and Muggle-written books on the subject. Out of sheer boredom on his school holidays Draco had read his way through quite a lot of the dusty volumes, and was now able to tell Harry about some of the more entertainingly bizarre things the Romans had done. Harry seemed to find their culinary concoctions most amusing; Draco was more intrigued by the odder religious rites, like bathing in bulls' blood. Their mutual snickering earned them glares from the other tourists until they decided to go and wait for Harry's friends at the hostel.
Weasley was already there, looking irritable and shuffling his feet in the grass. He greeted Harry with enthusiasm, Draco with a cold, "Malfoy."
Draco would not have expected otherwise. He returned chill for chill. "Weasley."
It seemed Granger had persuaded both her own parents and the elder Weasleys to allow the two of them to stay in Bath that night with Harry and Draco, and had moreover pressured Weasley into spending all afternoon visiting various sites and museums in Bath. They had gone to the Roman baths first, evidently – which was why Harry and Draco had not seen them there – and then some of the Georgian-era buildings. Draco repressed a grin at the thought of Weasley being dragged against his inclination through the exhibits. Granger would have been over the moon with loquacious enthusiasm, a wearing thing at best. He should really call her Hermione, Draco reminded himself, as he had begun doing before.
When Hermione emerged from the hostel, Harry urged Draco to explain what had happened with the Mark.
"Last night, You-Know-Who summoned the Death Eaters," said Draco, and showed them the blackened image of the skull on his arm. "It was worse than ever before – I'm not sure if he was closer, or angrier, or what."
Before they discussed the matter further, the four of them agreed that finding a more private spot than the pavement in front of the hostel would be a good plan. Harry let Hermione and Weasley walk ahead and fell in beside Draco, much to Draco's pleasure. He had half-expected the three Gryffindors to walk together and leave him trailing unwanted behind.
Under cover of Weasley's bickering with Hermione – and how did Harry stand that? – Harry suddenly said, "Do you know a spell to get rid of bruises?"
"What?" said Draco, and then, as Harry touched his own neck, realized that the love-bite Harry had left two nights before must still be visible. "Oh. Try Pallesco." A handy charm that Blaise had taught him; his fellow Slytherin had a propensity to be over-enthusiastic, but was no more eager than Draco to have his activities widely known.
Harry performed the spell twice, nodding to let Draco know that it had worked. He then pretended to be retying his trainer to cover for their having fallen behind, when Weasley looked back. As Harry did so, Draco saw what looked to be an ideal place for discreet wizarding talk, a churchyard. Its sign, announcing that St. Mary the Virgin held services at 8:00 and 10:30 every Sunday morning, and Evensong on alternate Sunday evenings, was half-hidden by an overgrown dog rose. No one seemed to be about on this Friday. If they found a spot well away from the road, no Muggles could possibly overhear anything. Weasley seemed reluctant, but grudgingly sat on one of the benches after Hermione had taken the middle seat, next to Draco. Harry lounged at their feet, looking surprisingly comfortable in the long grass.
Naturally it was Hermione who took the lead, setting out what little they knew for sure about the Dark Mark. Draco told her that after a summons, it took a day for it to fade again from black to red. She was pleased when he confirmed her guess that the Mark could not be removed, although Draco was fairly sure it was because the answer fit her theories, not because she wanted Draco to be permanently sealed to Lord Voldemort. She made a sympathetic face, almost as if she liked him and regretted the situation he was now in, and Draco saw why Harry trusted her as a friend.
Weasley, on the other hand, was openly skeptical when Draco said that Professor Snape had told him that the Mark could be used to trace the Death Eaters. Draco snapped back, any intention of being more friendly vanishing, "Harry asked me why I believed Professor Snape too, Weasel, but couldn't think of a reason why he would've lied. Can you?"
That confounded Weasley, all right, and he just sat there looking foolishly angry. Draco enjoyed the little triumph for a moment before he remembered again what Professor Snape had said, and his glee faded. The Potions Master had been awfully insistent that Draco should look for Harry, rather than anyone else, and instead of staying alone. Like everyone who had ever seen the two interact, Draco was well aware of the animosity that existed between Professor Snape and Harry, but only now did it occur to him – perhaps this was all part of a plan to let the Death Eaters use Draco to find Harry, and take him to Lord Voldemort?
Aghast at the possibility and stumbling over his words, Draco blurted out, "Harry, I didn't tell you all the truth."
When he explained, however, Hermione said, "If that was his plan, then it wasn't a lie about the Mark being used to track people. But Draco didn't manage to kill Professor Dumbledore, his record of success isn't good, so why would Professor Snape need to use him to find Harry?"
Draco felt a peculiar mixture of emotions on hearing Hermione's words. He was still slightly ashamed to have failed at the task he had been set, even though he knew he had not really wanted to succeed and would have been far more horrified had he done so. It was pleasant to know that Hermione did not think he had been deceived by Professor Snape as to the uses of the Mark. And he was extremely worried that he was indeed being used to track down Harry.
But Hermione continued, "Everyone at Hogwarts knew that Harry goes to his aunt and uncle's house every summer. Professor Snape or the other Death Eaters could wait for him there, there'd be no need to use Draco."
That seemed logical, until Harry said, "But Professor Dumbledore told me that as long as I can call the Dursleys' my home, and visit once a year, my mother's blood protects me from direct harm until I come of age. Waiting there would have done no good, I'm safe till my birthday."
"So I might be leading the Death Eaters to you, then," Draco realized miserably. "If not right now, then within a couple of weeks, as soon as you turn seventeen." There was something in Harry's explanation that sounded not quite right. Draco could not put his finger on it, though, and surely the Headmaster would not have misinformed Harry about such a thing.
"Snape could still have been lying, although honestly I can't quite see why he would, unless he just wanted to scare Draco into being extra-careful," said Hermione. "It would be safest to assume he was telling the truth."
The possibility that Professor Snape might have lied to protect him was occupying Draco's attention when Hermione nudged him and pointed at Harry, who had rolled over in the grass and put his arms over his head.
"He's had too much bad news, he's pulling away," she hissed. "I've seen him like this before."
Draco shook his head, disbelieving. Harry would not give up like this, not from hearing that perhaps, and only perhaps, Draco was being used to find him. That made no sense. Harry had fought Lord Voldemort face-to-face and won – Draco's father seen it, had ranted about it at great length afterward. But Hermione seemed very sure. Unless... Harry could not possibly think Draco had agreed to any such plan, was working against him, could he?
"Ron," Hermione whispered, "you and Draco go... oh, go get some chocolate. That might help. And something to drink too."
"No," said Weasley, low but determined. "Not with Malfoy. You go with him, I'll stay with Harry."
Hermione just looked at him. Draco wished he could see her expression, because after a minute Weasley capitulated, saying angrily, "Oh, all right." He stood up and glared at Draco before turning and marching towards the street.
"Here," muttered Hermione, and shoved her purse at Draco. "I got your money changed, it's in there. Go on. Find a newsagent's, they'll have all that."
Draco took it awkwardly and set off after Weasley, who was nearly out of the churchyard already. As he caught up, he saw from the corner of his eye that Hermione had knelt beside Harry and was leaning over him. Draco hoped she knew what she was doing. He wished he were in her place.
Weasley was glowering at him. "If you've put Harry in more danger, Malfoy, I'll..."
"You'll what?" Draco cut him off. "Run and tell your father? Get Longbottom and Lovegood to come after me? Challenge me to a Quidditch match? I'm scared, Weasley, I'm really scared." As he said it, he recognized that he was, actually, scared that he was going to put Harry in danger. Not that Harry was exactly safe anyhow, but if Draco made it worse... whatever Weasley thought of doing to him would be better than what Draco would find to do to himself. The realization that he valued Harry's life as much as his own was strangely freeing.
"I'm sorry," Draco said quietly.
"What?" Weasley gaped at him.
"I'm sorry," Draco took a deep breath, and added, "Ron. I don't want to bring any harm to Harry, I swear I don't. You can believe me or not."
Ron shot Draco a deeply suspicious look and shook his head. "Never thought I'd hear Draco Malfoy apologize for anything."
"Well, now you have," said Draco. They walked in silence for several hundred yards. "Er. Did you see a newsagent's on the way here from the hostel? I wasn't really looking."
"What's that? Why?" said Ron.
"Not likely to be a branch of Honeydukes around here, is there? Muggle newsagents sell sweets and stuff, I guess, Hermione said to go there to buy the chocolate," Draco said.
"Oh, yeah." Ron pointed down the street. "I saw some kind of shop around that corner."
They had trouble choosing what to buy from the array available, finally settling to get one each of a dozen different chocolate bars in the hope that some would be all right. They bought several cans of fizzy drinks, too. Draco struggled with the unfamiliar Muggle money when he took it all up to the till to pay. He had used it occasionally before, but not often enough to easily tell if he had received the proper change, not when he was far more accustomed to sensible Knuts and Sickles.
On their way back to the churchyard, Draco hoped they had given Hermione enough time to talk Harry out of his agitation. He resented that she had claimed that role, though a small part of him knew that Harry would be far more likely to listen to her than to Draco, or perhaps even Ron. It disturbed him to see Harry so overwrought. Harry was a Gryffindor, he was supposed to be courageous to the point of being foolhardy. What was wrong? Should he offer again to release Harry from his promise to help? No, Harry had been very clear last night that he was determined to see things through.
"Malfoy," Ron's voice broke in on Draco's thoughts.
"What?" said Draco.
"Why did you ask Harry for help? Just because Snape suggested it? It seems awfully... unlikely, you coming to Harry."
Draco stopped walking and leaned against the cool black-painted iron of a lamppost. "Why do you think I did it?"
Ron squinted at him. "I dunno. Nothing I can think of makes sense."
"Who would you go to, if you were in the kind of situation I'm in? Can't go to your family, it would put them in danger, same with your friends or anyone you're known to be associated with," Draco said. "So what would you do?"
"I guess... yeah, okay," said Ron in unsatisfied tones. "I still think there's something you're not saying, though."
Draco looked appraisingly at Ron, surprised at his perception. He was right, of course, but it was none of his business what Draco felt about Harry. When Draco had guessed that Ron was the bloke Harry had snogged before, he had felt faintly contemptuous of Harry's taste. Ron Weasley had always seemed to Draco to be perhaps just a more effectual version of Vincent Crabbe or Gregory Goyle: a pure-blood without much else to recommend him, who had attached himself to a more powerful and successful friend. Now, though, Draco realized his presumption had been incorrect. His ingrained dislike of those he considered blood traitors had colored his perceptions without warrant. Ron might be nowhere near as clever as Hermione – well, who in their year was? – but he was no fool. Better to disarm him by telling him some of the truth.
"Of course I'm not saying everything," said Draco, spreading his hands and setting the carrier bag swinging wildly on his arm. "D'you really want the details of the weeks I spent before I came and got you to tell me where Harry was? D'you want to hear about the nights I slept in Muggles' back gardens, by their rubbish bins? About the days when I didn't have anything to eat, and drank out of bird baths?"
All of which was true, and humiliating to admit, but somewhat beside the point. The confession served its purpose, though, in distracting Ron, who looked by turns pleased, then guilty, and finally embarrassed. "No," he muttered," I don't need to hear all that. Harry believes you, and he's promised to help you so I will too. But mind, if I find out that you've hurt him somehow, I will hex you from now till next solstice, don't think I won't."
He looked so serious, so grim, that Draco was not even tempted to laugh.
"I told you before, I mean no harm to Harry. I offered last night to leave, let him off his promise to help, and he said no. I'll ask him again if you like but he'd only say the same," Draco said.
Ron nodded. "He would. Don't bother."
They resumed their walk back to the churchyard.
"Hope Hermione's snapped him out of it," said Ron. "He was really shaken after..." he cast a sidelong look at Draco, "after Professor Dumbledore's death. It was Ginny who cheered him up, as much as he could be, but then he broke up with her. She took it awfully well. Odd really. You'd have thought it was her idea, but I know it wasn't."
"Oh?" said Draco, as casually as he could manage. Harry had broken up with Ginny Weasley? He had never mentioned that when he talked about her. Perhaps there was more hope for Draco than he had thought.
"Yeah, Ginny and Hermione are good friends, and Hermione told me a bit of what Ginny thought. I couldn't get Harry to explain why did it though. A lot of nonsense about not wanting to hurt Ginny more," Ron shrugged. "And right after the funeral, too. I would've thought she would act more like Lavender and make a great fuss, but what do I know?"
Rather against his will, Draco felt a grudging admiration for Ginny for taking the breakup calmly. Hogwarts gossip had pegged her as Harry's True Love, but the gossip was evidently no more accurate than it usually was. Draco had begun to suspect so, judging by Harry's attitude towards him. Still it was good to hear it from someone else. He said, "So Harry did the breaking-up, but he was the one more upset about it?"
"Yeah. I wonder if that might not be what Hermione's been talking about with him," said Ron. "It hasn't been that long, he might still be bothered over it even if he hasn't mentioned it much."
They had reached the shabby churchyard again. Hermione and Harry were sitting on the bench, and Draco just caught the words, "...but he is kin to the Blacks," before they saw Ron and Draco returning and fell silent.
"Chocolate, as you asked," said Draco, holding out the bag to Harry and giving Hermione her purse. Who was kin to the Blacks? Himself? Why did that matter? He wanted to ask, but did not. If they had wanted to say, they would have kept talking.
Harry reached into the bag and pulled out a Mars bar. Unwrapping it, he looked from Ron to Draco and said, "No blood, I see."
"Nope," Ron answered. "Maybe later." He took the bag from Harry and sat down next to him.
Hermione had looked in her purse. "I meant for you to take the money I had Bill exchange for you," she said to Draco.
"I wasn't sure how much was mine," said Draco, settling himself in the grass between her and Harry.
"You had thirty-three Galleons in that sack, which worked out to just under £163, at yesterday's exchange rate," Hermione told him, counting it out. "£162.69, to be exact."
Draco shoved the coins in his pocket, fingered through the wad of paper, and pushed a five-pound note back at her. "The chocolate," he said in explanation. "I want to pay for some of that, you shouldn't have to."
She nodded and took it, tucking it back into her purse. "Eat your chocolate, Harry, don't sit holding it till it melts down your wrist," she said briskly.
Harry had been watching them divide the money, but now he blinked and took a bite, shoving his glasses up his nose with his other hand.
"Thanks Ron, thanks Draco," he said indistinctly through the mouthful.
"Here," Ron fished out a can of orange drink, handing it to Harry. "You might want this too."
Taking it, Harry nodded. He looked much less tense and unhappy – whatever Hermione had done or said, it had worked, Draco thought. He was glad of that, if jealous that it had been she who had snapped Harry back to his usual self. Draco wished he were next to Harry on the bench. He wanted to put an arm around him, to tell him wordlessly that it might not be all right, but – as Harry himself had said – they were in this together. If Draco's presence brought the Death Eaters' attention, or that of Lord Voldemort, to Harry more quickly, it was too late to help it, but Draco promised himself he would do whatever it took to protect Harry.
"Right," said Hermione purposefully. Draco thought that he could get tired of her propensity to take charge, though he admitted she was good at it. "To get back to what we're here to talk about. We can't get rid of the Dark Mark on your arm, Draco, and we think it can be used to trace you but we don't really know for certain. Professor McGonagall is letting me use the Hogwarts library, but I haven't told her exactly what I'm looking for. If you'll give me permission to do that, she might have some better ideas – maybe a way to Transfigure the Mark, for instance, or to mask it somehow."
Draco hesitated. "Won't you have to explain about seeing me, if you tell her you're researching the Dark Mark? It's not a likely thing for you to be looking into for no reason. I don't much want anyone to know where I am, though, I don't know who I can trust. Present company excepted of course," he added hastily, although he trusted Ron only for Harry's sake.
"I might," admitted Hermione. "She would probably be curious about why I was interested."
"Let Hermione tell, if she has to," said Harry. His eyes met Draco's, with a reluctantly pleading expression, as much as if to say, we cannot do this alone, the two of us, let her do what she must to help. Draco could not deny that unspoken appeal.
"All right," said Draco heavily. "But try to say as little as possible."
"I will," Hermione promised. "What I really want to find out for certain is whether the Mark can be used to follow you, because if it can't there isn't nearly so much to be concerned about. I need to learn how the Ministry of Magic keeps track of underage wizards – You-Know-Who might use some variation on that, although it seems improbable since they don't need to mark children – and perhaps some of the Aurors who were working fifteen years ago would know something."
"Like Moody?" said Ron.
"He'd be one, yes," Hermione said.
Ron said, "I'll ask the Aurors if you like."
"Actually I was thinking you could look into the Ministry, since your dad works there, but if you'd rather do it the other way around, all right," said Hermione. "Harry, I was hoping that you and Draco could try and alter the Mark. It may be permanent, but if you can change it enough perhaps You-Know-Who wouldn't be able to use it for summoning or finding Draco, either one. I don't think it will be easy, maybe not even possible, but I brought several books that might have spells you could try. They're from Hogwarts. You can take them with you when you go tomorrow, just be sure that I get them back within a fortnight or so." She looked expectantly from Harry to Draco and back.
"We can try," said Harry in doubtful tones.
Draco nodded agreement, feeling as dubious about such an attempt as Harry sounded. If his father had not known of any way to remove or change the Dark Mark, what chance had they of discovering one?
"I'm willing to give it a try, but don't expect much," he said.
"No, but it will give you something to work on, since you can't do the other sorts of research," said Hermione.
"I wish I knew what Dumbledore had in mind," burst out Harry. "He said he could hide Draco and his parents as well. How?"
"If he knew a way, then we can figure out one too, even if it's not exactly what he intended," Hermione said with supreme confidence.
Draco wished he could be so sure, and looking at Harry he could tell that the other boy was worried too. All they could do now, he supposed, was the best they could.