Celandine's Chronicle (celandineb) wrote in cels_fic_haven, @ 2007-08-08 20:44:00 |
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Entry tags: | hp fic better than revenge, hp fic draco/harry |
HP fic: Better Than Revenge, ch. 26: At Twelve Grimmauld Place [Harry/Draco, general]
Title: Better Than Revenge
chapter 26, "At Twelve Grimmauld Place"
Author: celandineb
Fandom: HP
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Rating: general
Summary: Draco finds a Horcrux and has a conversation with Mrs. Black's portrait. He is relieved when Harry returns as promised.
When Harry appeared in the doorway of Draco's borrowed room and promised, "We'll be together tomorrow night," Draco felt a rush of pleasure that was only partly to do with the closeness of Harry's embrace. He knew that Harry would disappear back upstairs at any moment, and he understood why, though he wished it could be otherwise. No, his happiness came from the fact that Harry seemed to be looking forward to tomorrow as much as Draco himself.
Holding onto that thought let Draco remind Harry casually, "And I'll owe you a present." He could scarcely keep from grinning like a fool as Harry gave him a quick kiss and slipped out.
Remus Lupin looked even shabbier than he had done at Hogwarts when he walked into the Weasleys' at breakfast the next morning. Draco found his female companion more worthy of attention: so this was cousin Nymphadora. He had heard a few bits and pieces about her over the years, mostly from his mother bemoaning her sister Andromeda's so-unfortunate marriage to the Muggle-born Ted Tonks. Evidently his cousin preferred to use her father's surname over her own first name. Draco could understand the importance of a name, of course; he would not be a Malfoy if he did not. But it baffled him that anyone would choose to use a Muggle family name in preference to a wizarding one.
It was not she, though, who transported him to the Black house via Side-Along Apparition, but Lupin. Draco wondered briefly if the man was hoping to see him splinched. It was, after all, Draco who had been largely responsible for Lupin's exposure as a werewolf and consequent dismissal as a Hogwarts professor. Nothing untoward happened, however. Indeed it was one of the smoothest trips Draco could remember, better than most of his own solo Apparitions.
When Professor McGonagall arrived, Harry convinced her to let himself and Draco try Draco's scheme to get the portrait of Mrs. Black down from the wall in the front hallway. Draco quite enjoyed fooling the old witch into giving up her secret. He flattered her outrageously, hinted that he was there on behalf of Bellatrix Lestrange, and insulted Harry and the members of the Order several times. Insulting Harry in his presence was the most difficult part, a far cry from how Draco had once acted, but Harry played along well, practically cringing when Draco looked at him. It did not take long before he learned how to detach the portrait. The spell had to be said by a member of the Black family in any case and so Tonks might have managed it, though since she was unacknowledged by her pureblood relatives even she might not have qualified. Continuing the deception, Draco ordered Harry to carry the portrait upstairs, and waited smugly until the other boy came back.
"That was brilliant," Harry said, hugging him.
Draco considered that a very promising sign. And with the annoying portrait taken care of, perhaps Harry would be more comfortable staying in the house tonight. He returned the embrace. "It was rather, wasn't it?"
He would have liked to carry on from there instead of waiting for the evening, but McGonagall had only been willing to wait thirty minutes for them, and the time was up. Soon would come the moment that Draco was dreading, Hermione's attempt to alter or remove the Mark, as soon as she had tried to glean Voldemort's magical signature from it.
It turned out that the Dark Mark did not retain enough of Voldemort's resonance for Hermione to be able to detect it clearly. Draco was mostly relieved. It would have been disconcerting to think there was that much of the Dark Lord with him wherever he went. Harry, luckily for his own hopes, recalled that Dumbledore had had a ring that had once belonged to Voldemort and which might be more useful, and he talked the Headmistress into bringing it back later that day for Hermione to try her tracing spell on. Draco noticed that both Harry and Hermione, and even Ron, avoided mentioning that the purpose of all this was to find Voldemort's Horcruxes, so he kept his own tongue equally still on the matter.
All the discussion only delayed the inevitable. When Hermione finally cast the Permutatio spell, the pain that flared through Draco's arm made Voldemort's summons feel like the gentlest of motherly kisses. Had he been standing, he would have collapsed; as it was, he grabbed at Harry with his other hand and hung on for dear life.
"Oh, fuck, that hurt," Draco ground out through teeth clenched so hard he thought they would splinter in his mouth, before remembering McGonagall's presence and apologizing for his language.
Hermione thought she had seen a small change, and was determined to try again. It hurt even more the second time, but Draco was braced for it and managed to clamp down on the shriek that wanted to escape from his throat. He could not seem to unclench his fingers from Harry's arm, though. At least Harry did not object to that.
The three adults began a technical discussion of Transfiguration with Hermione, and Ron drifted around the table to where Harry and Draco sat. Then Draco managed to let go of his death grip on Harry. Hermione might believe that Ron would not notice anything going on between Harry and Draco, but Draco was unwilling to risk it... certainly not while Harry was still so hard to pin down when it came to establishing any kind of seriousness in their relationship, and might use any excuse to duck and run.
"At least the Transfiguration attempt doesn't seem to have alerted any Death Eaters," said Harry.
"That's small comfort," said Draco. "I'd almost prefer to keep the Mark rather than go through that much pain again, who knows how many times? I thought my heart would stop."
He hated admitting to such weakness, but better that than to really have it stop. He most certainly did not want to die, not yet.
"Of course, the Death Eaters could be outside the house, just thwarted by the Fidelius and unable to find it," pointed out Ron with obnoxious cheerfulness.
Draco glared at him. "Thanks for the positive outlook, Weasley."
That quenched Ron for the time being, until the Transfiguration discussion broke up and Tonks started asking everyone what kinds of sandwiches they would like for lunch. She and Lupin would stay until McGonagall returned with the ring Harry had asked about.
"Egg and cress on brown bread," Draco told his cousin. "Or prawn, please."
He was silent over his meal, which Tonks brought back from a nearby shop. Harry and Lupin were talking about Sirius Black, and Tonks was telling Ron and Hermione about Auror training. Hermione eventually seemed to notice that Draco had said nothing, for when she finished eating she came around to sit in the empty chair next to him.
"Does your arm still hurt?" Her expression was worried.
"Yes," admitted Draco, "but it's not as bad as it was, not nearly. More like a really terrible itch."
"I didn't realize it would be so painful. I'm sorry," she said. "Unfortunately it looks like it will take a lot of attempts to even alter the Mark appreciably, let alone get rid of it, not unless one of us can think up a completely different and more successful approach."
"Yes, well, my bad luck, isn't it?" said Draco, unable to keep all the bitterness out of his voice.
Hermione looked at him, her head tilted slightly to one side in what he decided was her thinking position. "Is it luck? I don't know."
Draco could not guess what she meant by that, but had no chance to ask, as Ron interrupted and asked for Hermione's opinion on Tonks's appearance.
Her appearance? Draco looked over and was astonished to see that the pink hair and rather pretty face of his cousin had vanished, replaced by a wrinkled, warty visage topped with flyaway grey hair.
"Classic," said Hermione. "What every Muggle expects a witch to look like. Although perhaps not with those clothes, mind you."
Tonks noticed Draco's confusion and explained, "I'm a Metamorphmagus."
"I see," said Draco. A highly useful ability for an Auror, that. He wondered if his parents knew about their niece's talent. Probably not, or his father at least would have made an effort to keep her from being cast out of the family; Voldemort would doubtless appreciate having such a person working for him. Draco found he was glad for Tonks that she had managed to escape such pressures.
They had all finished eating by the time Professor McGonagall returned.
"I must say it's a relief not to have to tiptoe past that portrait in the front hall," she said in dryly approving tones as she entered the room. "Mr. Potter, I believe this is the ring you meant?"
Draco watched as Harry stretched out his hand to take it.
"Yes, this is the one. Professor Dumbledore wore it quite a bit last year, but he said that Voldemort had had it for a long time. Hermione, what do you think, can you try your spell on this?"
"There's a better chance this will work than there was with the Mark, certainly," said Hermione, pulling her glass bowl closer and taking out her wand. Harry passed the ring to Draco, who set it down on the table in front of Hermione.
Hermione held her wand over the ring, her eyes closed. She spoke no words aloud, but as before, the wand appeared to vibrate. This time, though, a green light shone dimly around the ring. Hermione moved the wand over to the glass bowl, and the light followed like streamers of mist, settling slowly into the hollow of the bowl and flickering there.
"I think that's done it," she half-whispered when she had opened her eyes again. "We should check to make sure I didn't pick up Professor Dumbledore's resonance instead by accident, of course."
"There are a few things of his here," said Lupin, getting up.
He returned after a few minutes with a teacup that he said Dumbledore had brought to a meeting once and often used thereafter. Hermione placed it into the bowl and said, "Confero."
Nothing happened. Hermione looked pleased. "Good. If the resonances matched, it would have glowed. That means it ought to be Voldemort's that I've caught."
"Well done, Miss Granger," approved McGonagall.
"What if the thing I want to check is too big for the bowl?" asked Harry.
"Hold the open side of the bowl against whatever you're testing instead. Go ahead, try it." Hermione removed the teacup and slid the bowl toward him.
Harry reached across Draco to pick it up. He turned the bowl upside down on the table and held out his wand. "Confero," he said, then shrugged. "How do I know if it worked?"
"Could you feel a kind of a pulse?" Hermione asked.
"I think so."
"Good, you should have; that shows the spell was operating. I'm sorry the bowl's a bit heavy, it was the best thing that Ron's mum could find last night when I asked."
"It'll be fine," said Harry, "as long as it doesn't break. But I'll be careful, don't worry."
"Now that's done, I'd better be getting back to work," said Tonks, who had watched the procedure with interest.
"We should all go," agreed Lupin. "We can return here another time, once you've had a chance to work on the Transfiguration spell some more, perhaps improve it so it makes a greater change at once. I doubt it's been altered enough yet to be sure that a spell would not alert the Death Eaters... and I assume, Draco, that you would prefer to have it gone altogether in any case?"
"I would," Draco said, pushing his chair back as did everyone else except Harry.
Harry said, "I'm not leaving. I'm going to stay here tonight. Draco, you'll stay with me?"
Draco hitched his chair closer again and nodded, even as the adults began to expostulate that Harry could not, should not, stay in the Black house alone. Ron added his voice to their objections, telling Harry how disappointed his family would be if Harry did not come back for a birthday supper that night.
"It's my house," said Harry in the same quietly determined voice. "Sirius left it to me. I want to be here. And Ron, please say I'm sorry, I'll come for dinner tomorrow instead. But now that I'm here, I want to stop here for now."
Lupin stared at Harry with an odd expression on his face. "All right, Harry. If that's what you want, I can't prevent you."
Professor McGonagall turned a look of great annoyance on Lupin, but said, "I suppose he is of age. Very well." She snapped her mouth closed, picked up Dumbledore's ring, and stalked out. After a moment Tonks shrugged and followed, with Lupin behind her.
"You've gone completely mental, Harry," Ron told him. "You want to stay here?"
"I'm going to stop here tonight," Harry repeated.
"Oh, leave it, Ron," said Hermione tiredly. "Let's go home." She took Ron's elbow and guided him out of the room. Draco heard Ron continuing to protest until the front door closed behind them.
He looked at Harry. "Well."
"Well." Harry's clear green eyes gazed back at him. "D'you want me to show you around the place a bit?"
"Might as well." Draco followed Harry out of the room.
"Two summers ago I helped to get rid of a lot of the Dark Magic stuff that was here, and I expect various members of the Order have dealt with the rest since then, but there were some things too that weren't necessarily Dark, despite what Mrs. Black said," Harry explained as they wandered through the house. "Although I know Mundungus Fletcher – he's a member of the Order, but also a thief if not worse – walked off with at least a few of them before he was found out. Sold them, I expect."
"Doesn't that bother you?"
"Not really. Technically it's all mine, Sirius left me the house and everything in it, but it's not like they're my own things that I'd care about losing. Even Sirius didn't want most of it, and you'd think it'd have had some meaning for him. But he threw out great masses of stuff. What seemed innocuous went back into the cabinets and cupboards."
They were in a gloomy green drawing room on the first floor now, and Harry waved his hand vaguely at a pair of cabinets flanking the fireplace. Draco strolled toward them and peered through the glass fronts.
"So nothing here is dangerous?"
"Not that anyone could determine." Harry came over and stood close beside Draco. "I mean, obviously these daggers could be dangerous in an ordinary way, but they're not magically charmed so that anyone cut by them will bleed to death, or anything of that sort."
"What about that locket?" Draco pointed at a gold chain which bore a heavy pendant engraved with a strange pattern. Scales, Draco thought, or perhaps flames.
"It wouldn't open, but Mrs. Weasley and Sirius both checked it for hexes." Harry paused. "Wait a minute. Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"
Their eyes met and lit in wild surmise. Locket. Regulus Black had stolen Voldemort's locket Horcrux. And here was a locket in the Black house.
"I'll get Hermione's glass bowl," Draco offered, and dashed downstairs. Harry had not moved an inch when he returned.
"Oh, this is too much. It can't be."
"Put it in the bowl," said Draco impatiently.
As if in a trance, Harry opened the cabinet and did so, raising his wand. "Confero."
Bright green light flashed, nearly blinding Draco for a second. He blinked hard to clear his vision. Harry was standing still, awed.
"It has to be the Horcrux, with a response like that."
"No, it doesn't," said Draco logically, but when Harry turned a ferocious glare on him, he relented. "Although you're right, it probably is... the question is whether there's a specific test to tell for sure. And then if it is, how do we destroy it? That's the plan, right?"
Harry nodded, staring at the locket. "I don't know how it can be destroyed."
"Didn't you destroy one of them once before?"
"Yes, but I didn't know that's what I was doing – and a book is a lot easier to damage than metal or stone. When Professor Dumbledore destroyed the Gaunt ring as a Horcrux, it injured him terribly. You must have noticed his hand last year."
Draco had not, but he did not say so to Harry. "Well, what did you do to the book?"
"Stabbed it with a basilisk fang. Which wouldn't work on this anyhow." Harry frowned. "I suppose it doesn't matter if we know whether the locket is a Horcrux or not, as long as we can destroy it physically, as I did with the diary."
"Yes, but if we don't know, then we won't know for sure how many are left," Draco pointed out.
"Oh. Yeah. That was stupid of me."
"Just a bit Gryffindor-ish. Leaping ahead to try to solve the problem quickly without thinking through everything, you know." It was rather endearing in a way, if also frustrating. "Do you want to try to contact Hermione now and see if this test of hers can indicate a Horcrux specifically, not just anything handled by..."
"By Voldemort?" Harry finished. "I don't have Hedwig to take a message for me, is the problem, and after insisting that I was going to stay here tonight with you, I don't fancy going back to the Burrow after all... Mrs. Weasley's bound to be upset that I didn't want to go back there, and when she's upset, everyone in the vicinity knows it."
He looked unhappy. Draco took a deep breath and said, "But you'd really like to know for sure if this locket is a Horcrux, today. Not tomorrow or next week. How about this – you go to the Weasleys' and ask Hermione about it. You could even take the locket with you, and stay for dinner and all that, just come back here afterward. I won't go... I could talk to that portrait some more, maybe. See if I can learn anything useful from my late unlamented great aunt."
"Really?" Harry's expression shifted to doubtful but pleased. "That would be awfully good of you. I do want to find out if it's a Horcrux."
"Only be sure to come back tonight, that's all." Draco managed a smile, already half-regretting the offer. Harry wouldn't let himself be convinced to stay at the Burrow... he hoped.
"No fear," said Harry, smiling. "You keep promising me a birthday present... d'you think I won't be sure to collect that?"
Draco felt his mouth relax into a real, answering grin. "I guess not. Is there anything else I should see before you go?"
"Not really. I doubt there's any beds made up to sleep in though, since the Order hasn't been using the house much lately. Do you mind doing that?"
"I can manage." It couldn't be that hard to make a bed. A shiver of anticipation went though him, thinking about sharing a bed with Harry that was not a narrow mattress in a room with strangers just a wall away, or a sleeping bag on a rocky cave floor. "And I still have a little Muggle money, so I can go out and fetch something in for my dinner."
"Thanks, Draco. I really appreciate your being willing to let me go do this," said Harry. He moved his hand as if he were going to shake Draco's, then pulled it back awkwardly.
"It's okay, Harry." Draco reached out and put his arms around the other boy. He kissed Harry, biting gently at his lower lip, and Harry's mouth opened to his.
"I will definitely be back for that present," said Harry in a husky voice when they broke from the kiss. "But I'd better go. Sooner I do, sooner I can be back. See you later." He snatched up the locket, stepped away, and Disapparated with a loud crack.
Just that one kiss had left Draco longing for more, now. His hand moved almost without volition to stroke the hard bulge of his cock under the heavy denim fabric. It was amazing how much Harry turned him on. Now was not the time to indulge himself though. He wanted to take a better look around the house, decide which bedroom to use – he grinned to himself – and deal with old Mrs. Black. She really was a hag in that portrait; rather surprising, since she could not have been that old, and the Blacks were very good-looking on the whole. Draco's mother was ample proof of that.
Which room had Harry said he had left the portrait in? Draco walked along the first-floor hallway, opening doors quietly. He did not want to talk to his great-aunt's picture quite yet, only to know where she was so as not to disturb her by accident. Ah... the closest bedroom to the front stairs. Understandable. He closed the door again.
Now to pick a bedroom for the night. Harry had been correct, none of them were ready for use. A simple spell or two would clear out the worst of the dust, however, and after searching for clean sheets that would fit the large bed in the room he finally chose, Draco managed with a certain amount of effort to get them on properly.
It was late afternoon, now, and Draco considered whether he should go out to get something to eat first, or talk to the portrait. It could be awkward if he were still doing the latter when Harry returned. With a sigh, he drew himself up and entered that room.
"Good evening, aunt," he said as he turned the portrait around.
"Oh, it's you," she said ungraciously, peering out of her florid frame.
"I do apologize for making you wait, but there are other matters pressing on my attention today. I have time to take you through at least one of the rooms, though, if you wish. I've sent the boy," Draco barely kept from calling Harry by name, "on an errand to keep him out of the way. Obliviation and Memory Charms are all very well, but they can be broken."
"And how do you know he'll return from this errand?" she asked.
Draco gave her a cold smile. "Oh, he will return. He has no choice."
"Ah, an Imperius," cackled the old lady. "So you can cast it effectively? You are truly Black at heart."
"I'm sure you're right," said Draco. He pushed up his sleeves and pulled out his wand to cast a Levitation Charm on the heavy painting, which then floated before him obediently.
"And you've taken the Mark, I see, like my own dear son Regulus. Good. Good. We purebloods need to stick together. Can't trust these newcomers. Traitors, the lot of them. Don't know the good old wizarding ways." She paused in her tirade to order him to take her into the same drawing room he and Harry had examined earlier.
He guessed that she would be furious over anything that was missing, and so she was.
"Those thieving..." sputtered Mrs. Black incoherently. "Unworthy of the name of wizard!"
"Now, now, aunt," said Draco. "Just look around carefully and try to recall what's missing. Some things may have been destroyed, but it's rumored that some have been sold, and if I know what they are and what they can do, I can try to trace them and get them back."
"The tapestry is still here, at least," she gloated. "All the loyal family, for generations."
Draco noted that his aunt Andromeda was absent from the elaborate family tree, a burn in the fabric marking where she had once been. The same was true of his cousin Sirius. He suspected that the same charm that had enabled him to take down the portrait of Sirius's mother would work on this hanging too. Harry might appreciate that.
"There I am," he said, laying a fingertip against his own name.
"Indeed. You may bear the name of a Malfoy, boy, but never forget that the blood of the Blacks runs in your veins as well, and this house will someday be rightfully yours as heir to your aunt and mother." The pride in her voice made it harsh.
Rightfully his only if Sirius had been disinherited, Draco thought, which evidently had not been the case. He wondered why. Perhaps Sirius's father had restrained his wife? Not that it mattered, Draco did not want to be the heir. The Malfoy estates were more than enough for him; Harry was welcome to this gloomy house.
"Let me get something to write with," said Draco. He spotted an escritoire in one corner and was pleased to find it stocked with parchment, quill, and ink. "Now, what do you know is missing?"
She dictated a lengthy list, including descriptions, the use of each item, and sometimes stories of their provenance as well. Draco's hand ached by the time he had finished.
"That will have to be all for today," he said, floating her along the hallway and back to the same bedroom again. "I'm going to keep you here for safety, just in case that half-blood's friends come after him. I don't expect it but it's possible, and I'd hate to lose you, aunt." Draco smiled charmingly at her as he canceled the spell and set the portrait down, leaning it against the bed.
When the door was shut behind him, he breathed a quiet sigh of relief. Harry would want to look over that list; it might at least help him determine what Mundungus Fletcher had stolen, which could be useful even if he didn't care about getting it all back. Draco checked the time. Well after seven o'clock. He had better have something to eat, as Harry might be back soon. He hoped the Weasleys wouldn't keep him too long.
There was a chip shop in the next street, and despite its dubious appearance Draco decided convenience outweighed other potential shortcomings for the moment. The fish was better than he expected, actually, quite fresh, although the chips were on the underdone side. He prowled through the rest of the house after eating. Dank and dusty for the most part. A few well-trained house-elves would work wonders, if Harry had the sense to use them. Perhaps not Kreacher, but maybe Dobby. Although, Draco considered, if he were staying here, and Harry brought Dobby in... he might have to maintain his charade of subservience to Harry all the time, and he was not keen on that idea. Not to mention that it could get complicated if he was pretending the opposite to fool Mrs. Black.
He had found the library and was poking about in the dusty mildewed leather-bound volumes when he heard the slam of the front door.
"Draco?" Harry's voice sounded strained.
"In here." Draco put down a copy of Moste Potente Potions and went out to meet Harry. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing. Here, I brought our things," and Harry thrust Draco's rucksack into his hands. "I completely forgot those this morning. Good thing I went back."
As Draco looked at him skeptically, Harry said, "What? Ron was pushing me to stay, that's all. We had a bit of a row. Don't worry about it."
Draco didn't intend to, although he was nettled by Ron's attempt to keep Harry at the Burrow when Draco was at Grimmauld Place. Not that he thought Ron had any idea yet of what was going on between Harry and Draco. It was just another instance of Weasley prejudice.
He rummaged in the bag. "Ah ha – I thought so," he said, and triumphantly pulled out the last bottle of wine remaining from their night in the cave. "Fancy a drink?"
"I'll tell you what I fancy," said Harry, taking the bottle out of Draco's hands and setting it aside, then winding his arms around Draco's waist. "I fancy having that present from you that you keep teasing me about."
"You'll get it, no fear," Draco promised with a swift kiss. "But let's take all this upstairs and have a celebratory birthday drink first." He didn't want Harry to be drunk, but a little relaxation would not hurt.
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