|
the bottom!draco emporium-- Second Chances 3
Second Chances
Ch. 3 Or is it Third?
Harry’s anger with his charge had almost disappeared by the next day. He knew Draco couldn’t know the reason he’d reacted so violently, so when he entered the Slytherin’s room, he was prepared to forgive—though the punishment, for the most part, stood. He placed the tray he was carrying on the desk, a beginner’s wand next to it, and walked over to the bed.
“Draco. Wake up,” he said gently, shaking the blonde.
The other boy mumbled something and burrowed down further under the covers.
“Draco, you’ve slept all day and night. You need to eat something.”
“Didn’t know you cared, Potter,” Draco muttered.
“I don’t. But if you die of malnutrition, all my plans are spoiled. Get up. I brought you lunch. And something I think you might want.”
“I doubt you have anything I want.”
Harry raised an eyebrow, settling down on the bedside and removing the pillow from over the blonde head. “How about a wand?”
Grey eyes opened and glared at him. “You’ve made it painfully clear you don’t trust me that much. Kindly don’t rub it in just to humiliate me.”
“You’d be right about my trusting you if I were considering giving you your own wand. This is just a standard wand, beginner level.” He didn’t know how the arrogant Malfoy heir would react to that. There were four levels of wands: beginner, intermediate, advanced, and the wand a witch or wizard got that was attuned to their magic. The first three were used if a wizarding family wanted to train their child before the kid left for school. Still, surely any wand was better than nothing. He hoped Draco would recognize the peace offering for what it was. “Do you want it?”
There was a moment of silence; Draco sat up. “Yes, I want the bloody wand, Potter,” he snapped, pulling down his smock from where it had bunched around his chest.
The Gryffindor boy smiled grimly. “Good. Then get up. It’s already lunchtime.”
“Do I get any privacy to clean up for the day?”
Harry moved from the side of the bed to a chair in front of the fireplace. “I’m not watching. Don’t push your luck.” He
noticed his charge was about to slam into the bathroom and added, “Leave the door open, Malfoy.”
“Fucking pervert.”
“Hardly. I just don’t trust you any farther than I can throw you, and currently, I make the rules.”
“So you keep reminding me.”
Harry leaned back and closed his eyes as the shower started. He could understand the Slytherin’s desire to be clean, after the grime he’d been covered in on the way home from Azkaban the previous day, but as time dragged on, it was getting ridiculous. Even after the shower was turned off, Draco stood in front of the mirror for some time, dressed in his prison smock and primping.
“Come on, Draco! Will you hurry up? It’s not like you have to debate over whether or not your outfit matches.”
“That reminds me,” the blonde drawled, sauntering back into the room. “How am I supposed to earn trust from you? You’re the Boy Who Lived, and I’m a Death Eater.”
“Actually asking what I want from you? Sit down and eat your lunch.”
“Forgive me for wanting my own wand and some clothes.”
“You can start by listening when I tell you something. Sit and eat. Your wand and lunch are on your desk. We’ll talk when you’ve eaten.”
Draco picked up the wand, grimacing. His expression lightened into surprise as he tried a minor levitation charm. “This isn’t bad, Potter. Not that I couldn’t afford better, of course.”
Harry grinned. “You did pay for that. The Ministry sent me your Gringotts key, among other things, to make this easier for me.”
The Slytherin nodded and settled into the desk chair, eating the sandwiches provided for his lunch in silence under green-eyed scrutiny.
The dark-haired boy calmly met grey eyes when his charge turned the desk chair around, a mug of tea still in pale hands, and demanded, “Well?”
“You want to talk about why you’re here?”
The blonde looked at him with incredulity clear in his face. “Potter. . .”
“All right, Draco. You know what your sentence was originally, you and all the other Death Eaters your age. The
Council discussed it, and decided that such a punishment was needlessly cruel. You’re still young enough to change your way of thinking. So you’re the test case. If this method appears to work, the others will be placed in similar situations.”
“What, with their arch-rivals?”
“No. I volunteered to take the test subject, which ended up being you.”
“You chose me, you mean.”
“Yes. Any more questions?”
Draco looked around the room, then back at his host. “I don’t suppose we can go out? Some time in the sun wouldn’t go amiss.”
Harry considered. There was a park a few blocks from the flat, and his charge looked edgy. Wouldn’t it be a laugh if the arrogant Slytherin was claustrophobic? “Wait here for a second.” He retreated to his room and grabbed some trousers before returning to what had been the guest room. “Put these on. It’ll save you from committing public indecency. You’ll wear them while we’re out, give them back to me when you get back. Understand?”
“Yes. Do I get a shirt?”
“I’m only stopping indecency, not embarrassment on your part.”
“I can’t believe you’re making me go out dressed like a convict!”
“Why not?” the Gryffindor asked innocently. “You are a convict. And may I remind you that I’m not forcing you to go anywhere?”
Draco glared but was smart enough to know when he wasn’t going to win. He pulled on the pants under his smock and tucked the wand into his pocket.
When Harry saw that his charge was ready, he led the way out of the flat.
“And what’s to stop me from running?” Draco asked archly.
“Your own common sense. You’re wearing a prison smock and carrying a beginner’s wand. I’d have you in a body bind before you got three paces. If you want me to ensure you can’t, though. . .” He left the sentence hanging.
The blonde subsided and followed his ex-rival through the streets.
The Gryffindor ignored the looks they were getting, but he caught the other boy’s relieved sigh as they passed the gates into the park and away from the crowds. The next person they ran into, however, proved to be distinctly unsettling.
They had been walking through the park in silence for almost an hour, occasionally stopping to look at something, when a squeaky voice called out to them. “Hello, Mister Potter!”
Both boys turned in time to catch Professor Flitwick’s reaction when he saw Harry’s companion.
“Hello, Professor,” Draco said, grinning maliciously.
Harry would have reprimanded his charge, but he heard an undertone in the drawling voice he couldn’t quite identify, but which sounded suspiciously like pain.
“Mister Malfoy,” the tiny professor squeaked. “Aren’t you a—shouldn’t you be in. . .” he trailed off uncertainly.
The blonde’s grin widened. “Yes, I’m a Death Eater. Yes, I was in Azkaban. No, I shouldn’t be there now. Yes, I’m coming back to school this fall.”
The Professor squeaked something about meeting McGonagall and retreated.
The Gryffindor didn’t say anything, having successfully determined that he had been right in identifying the undertone in the other’s voice as pain. Neither mentioned the meeting again as they continued their walk. Finally, the blonde turned to his host and asked, “Will you tell me now about the Council? You said yesterday you’d explain later, if I wanted you to.”
“Here’s not the best place, and I thought you wanted to get out of the flat.”
The Slytherin started to look uncomfortable, but Harry broke the tense moment with a laugh. “Don’t worry about it. We can stay in the living room, not your room. Come on.”
Again, they were silent as they walked, waiting until they were settled in with a cup of tea, across a chess board from one another, before speaking again. Harry moved a pawn, then looked over at Draco. “The Council was formed at the beginning of last year. To fight your Master, of course.”
“Will you stop it with that?” the blonde snapped. “It’s not helping you reform me to constantly remind yourself I’m a Death Eater. And I don’t like being reminded, either.”
“All right, then. So the Council was formed of the higher members of the Order of the Phoenix. I’m sure you’ve heard of that, even if you don’t know much about it. It’s all terribly cloak-and-dagger, and the Council’s worse. Anyway, originally there weren’t people from the Ministry on the Council. After Fudge was killed, Croaker . . .”
“Who?”
“The new Minister. Jude Croaker was more active. He demanded that the Ministry have a say in what was going on in the war. The Council had at that point lost five members from its original ten, so those five spots were granted to the Ministry. . .on the condition that we got to decide which members held them.”
“You do realize you’re practically telling me you’re on the Council, Potter.”
Harry shrugged, glaring at the chessboard. “I am. I’m Dumbledore’s second. So what? You’re not going to tell anyone, are you?”
“No.”
“Exactly. The Council, during the war, planned the strategy. We received the reports from spies, decided when I needed to be seen, and planned the best times to attack, among other things. We all received the Order of Merlin, First Class for our efforts, though it doesn’t mean that much now. Not in comparison to everyone who died, or was sent to Azkaban. Yes, Draco, that includes you.
“Now the Council runs the wizarding world. We cleaned up after Voldemort, made sure everyone was provided for, healed the wounded, and for the most part tried the Death Eaters we caught. Our main concern right now is that Muggles know about us. I’m sure you know that Voldemort ensured that. Unfortunately, everything they know of us is from the war, and therefore bad. There have been witch-hunts again. We’re tightening the restrictions on wizards to keep the Muggles from noticing us.”
“Check.”
Harry studied the chessboard while his charge processed what he was being told. Finally, he moved his bishop. “I’m out of check, and you’re in,” he declared, sipping his tea.
“So the Muggles know about us?”
“Yes. They know that magic is real, that some of us live among them. All witches and wizards that had lived among Muggles are being brought back to the purely magical world, but it’s hard. It’s very, very hard.”
“Why?”
“Don’t play stupid, Malfoy. You were raised in intrigue. You knew more about politics in first year than anyone else in seventh.”
“I want you to confirm what I’m thinking, Potter. You said you’d explain this to me. Besides, you said yourself I’ve been in Azkaban for the past few months. I know nothing about the current political climate.”
“All right. Anybody who suddenly makes plans to move is suspected of being of magical blood. It takes time to move, time to pack up your life. That’s enough time for a witch hunt to start. Besides, we have a hard time getting the Aurors to convince people they have to move. Nobody wants to believe the danger. I can’t blame them, but some of them are getting killed. The Muggle-born are the largest problem.”
“You could take the children early, let them be raised in a magical environment.”
“That works in some situations, but there’s the fact that we’d be kidnapping children, taking them from their parents.”
“What do the Muggle governments know? What are they doing?”
“They’re trying to help, but they can’t do much. If the regular Muggles knew that their leaders had been keeping this kind of secret from them, they’d lose all faith in the government. Think about it, though. We can talk about it as often as you like. Checkmate.”
“Unfair. I was distracted.”
“Play again?”
The blonde nodded, irritably flipping his long hair out of his face. He tucked his legs up under himself and pulled his smock down with a sigh. He hated the reminder of Azkaban prison with a passion, but he didn’t like the idea of wandering around Potter’s flat naked, either. At least he was clean. The thought of the filth he’d been covered in leaving Azkaban was enough to make him shudder.
They played chess for the rest of the afternoon. When the fireplace lit up, signaling someone coming through the wards who was authorized, Harry looked up in astonishment. “Is it evening already?”
“Enjoying my company, Potter?”
“Apparently, yes. Stay put. I’m going to go tell Sirius someone’s coming. It’ll be a couple of minutes before they actually get here. If I come back and you’ve moved from that chair, I’ll leave you to your claustrophobia in your room.”
He checked the office and his godfather’s room, but the older man wasn’t there. Coming back to the living room, he said, “I think it’ll be Sirius coming through now. He must have left while we were out walking.”
“Are you sure I should be here, out of my room, when he comes through?”
“Why do you care?”
“Because I don’t want 200 pounds of big, mean mutt jumping on me.”
But it was too late to worry about that. Sirius came tumbling through the grate, stalking toward the kitchen. “We’re having company for dinner, Harry,” he grumbled.
The raven-haired boy raised an eyebrow. “Oh?” He got no answer, and he turned to Draco. “Come on. Let’s get you back to your room, and I’ll bring you a supper tray in a few minutes.”
The blonde hesitated. “Harry,” he started. “Well, can I . . . Would it be all right if I . . . ?”
“Just spit it out, Malfoy.”
“Would it be all right if I stayed out here and ate with you? I’d like the company.”
“I don’t know, Draco. We’re having a guest, apparently.”
The blonde looked insulted. “I’m not some lowborn Weasley. I know how to behave.” Abruptly realizing what he’d said, he raised a hand. “I wasn’t thinking. I just meant I can behave.”
“Alright. We’ll see. If you behave perfectly, I’ll even forget that little slip of the tongue.” Green eyes narrowed. “If not, we’ll discuss both before you go to bed.”
Draco stood up to go sit at the table when the fireplace activated again. A moment later, Severus Snape stepped through. His eyes went immediately to the blonde. “Draco,” he said coolly. “It is good to see you out of Azkaban prison.”
“It’s good to be out, sir. How have you been? And for that matter, what are you doing here?”
“Coping. The idiots in the Ministry are bumbling the whole mess. Has Potter told you?”
“He has, sir.”
“It’s Severus, Draco. I’m still your godfather.”
At that point, dinner materialized on the table, and Sirius walked back into the room. “If everyone would sit down?” he asked, trying to play host but giving the Slytherins poisonous looks. They obeyed. Draco sat across from Harry, in easy range for a quick hex, he noted bitterly. If that wasn’t deliberate, he’d eat his prison smock. He also noticed that the place set for him didn’t include a knife. Luckily, the supper didn’t include anything that would require cutting.
There was strained conversation through most of dinner, the Slytherins discussing Potions, the Gryffindors chatting about Quidditch, each man studying his godson, each boy studying the other. Finally, Severus said, “Draco, why in hell are you still wearing a prison uniform?”
Draco met the cold black eyes, and looked away. “Because genius across the table here won’t give me anything else to wear. Or any time or money to go shopping.”
“Draco,” Harry warned. “Professor Snape, Draco’s treatment is under my discretion. The Council specifically stated that no one else was to interfere. If you’ll excuse us, we’ll let you get your business done, and come back to see you off.
You are, of course, welcome to visit again, though I’d appreciate a bit more warning.”
He led the way back to his charge’s room, hearing echoes of the two men’s conversation.
“Black, why aren’t you doing anything? Your precious godson is abusing mine!”
“It’s the Council’s decision . . .”
“Council’s decision my . . .”
Harry shut the door firmly, cutting off the outside conversation.
“I thought I was supposed to pretend the doors didn’t exist?”
“You are,” the Gryffindor said quietly. “I don’t have to.” He settled into one of the arm chairs. “You did well, Draco. If you can continue to behave that well, you may join me when I eat, instead of taking a tray in here.”
“Don’t bloody patronize me, Potter.”
Green eyes widened. “I’m sorry. I’m taking the place of a parent for you, trying to re-raise you. I’m not very good at it yet. I didn’t mean to offend. I thought you would appreciate it.”
“I may be in your care and custody, but I’m older than you are. Don’t treat me like a child.”
“I make no promises. Now, merely as a recommendation and not intended to be patronizing, I think you should go to bed. You’re still weak from Azkaban, and we did a lot today.”
Draco started to protest and yawned widely. He blushed. “I need to say good bye to Severus,” he snapped, embarrassed and irritated.
Harry smiled and went to open the door. The Potions Master had been just about to knock.
“I’m leaving,” Snape said coolly. “I’ll come back and visit again when you’re more settled in. I just wanted to make sure you’re all right.”
“I’ll be fine, Severus,” the blonde said quietly. “Thank you for caring.”
“I’ll look after him,” Harry added cheekily. The Slytherins ignored him and said their farewells. When Draco’s godfather had left, the Gryffindor said, “I’ll leave you to sleep now. I’ll see you in the morning.” He turned and left the guest room, but he could have sworn he heard a quiet “thank you” coming from his charge. Shaking it off as a hallucination, he went to talk to Sirius. They had a Council meeting the next day to be prepared for.
|