Be Careful
70: Whose Heart You Claim
By Anne B. Walsh
“You’ve been a busy little bee today, haven’t you?” said Meghan, watching as the figure of Draco in the TVP adjusted the position of one of Nott’s legs. “First Zabini and Crabbe and Goyle, and now these two...”
“I wanted to be sure no one would blame them for what Ron and Hermione did,” Draco said with his best innocent look. “After all, if they were stuck like this, they couldn’t possibly have been running around Stunning people.”
“Especially not considering where their wands are right now.” Ron grimaced. “That looks painful.”
“I was gentle,” Draco protested. “Mostly.”
“Yeah, that’s what’s got me worried. The bit that wasn’t ‘mostly.’”
Ray leaned to one side to get a better look. “Draco, have you read the Kama Sutra by any chance?”
“What would give you that impression?”
“That actually looks enjoyable,” said Starwing. “Without the wands, of course. And in private. And after stretching.”
Neenie flapped a hand frantically. “Stop, please, that’s far more than I need to know about my brother’s sex life...”
“How much do you need to know about your brother’s sex life, then?” said Neville, grinning.
“Nothing!”
“Draco isn’t your brother,” said Luna. “Except honorary. So I think I can ask this.” She gave Draco her sweetest smile. “Can we try that sometime, please?”
Draco bent over the TVP’s console in a futile effort to hide his flushed face, listening to his friends snicker. “How about after we’re married,” he said.
“Oh, are we getting married, then?”
A low “Ooooooo” went up from several points in the room.
Draco took his hand away from the TVP so that he had both of them free to put them over his face. I think I’ve just been had. There’s nowhere to go from here with any dignity or grace...
No, wait. There’s one place. One thing I could do.
But it’s awfully soon. We’ve only known each other, as more than just a bully and a freak, for a month, unless you count the stuff we were getting up to in the fall...
Still, it was a question that would have to be addressed. The war was getting closer to its end with every day that passed.
It’d be a lot closer if Snape didn’t have those damned troll ballerinas watching the Room of Hiding. Wonder if Mum can convince him to lay off so I can get the diadem sooner rather than later?
But whether it was sooner or later, Draco knew, the diadem would eventually be found and destroyed, just like the other Horcruxes had been. And then Harry would duel Voldemort, and—somehow—emerge victorious.
I won’t get to see it firsthand, since I need to be here before it happens or the door will slam in my face, but I’ll still see it. And being here is the point I’m half-heartedly pursuing. I plan to come here to stay. Forever. And I’m working on starting that forever as soon as possible.
So either I say goodbye to Luna and send her home to her dad, to finish Hogwarts and become a famous naturalist and marry some relative of the bloke who wrote our Care of Magical Creatures text, or...
Or he could do what he was considering at this very moment.
Luna certainly seems willing. And I don’t think Mum would approve quite so strongly of the two of us if she hadn’t checked us out pretty thoroughly for staying power. There’s Ray and Starwing to consider, too...
Ah, the hell with it. Only way out of this one is forward.
Draco turned around, took Luna’s hand in his, and went down on one knee, reveling in the little gasps and squeals from the girls and the knowing chuckles from the boys. “I’m sorry this moment finds me materially unprepared,” he said, putting on an expression of great sadness. “But we can fix that later.” He dropped the acting and let his true feelings shine out. It wasn’t hard; Luna’s own face was so bright with joy it was nearly blinding. All he had to do was mirror her.
“Luna Lovegood,” Draco Malfoy said, clasping his love’s hand in both his own, “will you make me the happiest man in this world or any other? Will you marry me?”
Dear Mum,
She said yes.
More details after I stop flying without my broom.
Deliriously yours,
Draco
Blaise Zabini, sore all over and grateful as never before that his skin tone made it near-impossible to see when he was embarrassed, was not pleased to see the Headmaster striding into the hospital wing with a storm brewing on his face.
Calm, stay calm. He’s probably come to lecture me for trying to make a new potion without consulting him first. Yes, that’ll be it. And to get the recipe from me, so that he and Professor Slughorn can brew an antidote. He swallowed, glancing at the screened-off beds where Crabbe and Goyle were currently housed. I hope it can be made quickly.
A few quiet words with Madam Pomfrey, and Snape crossed the ward in long strides and glowered down at Blaise, one hand gripping a small bottle filled with silvery liquid. “Do you have anything to say for yourself?” the older wizard demanded.
“I never intended this to happen, Headmaster,” Blaise said truthfully.
“And what did you intend to happen?” Snape’s voice was dangerously quiet, his black eyes boring into Blaise’s brown. “What was your reason for trying such a bizarre and dangerous project in such total secrecy?”
She said no. “I...” Blaise began.
“I see.” The tone of the voice would now have frozen a cauldronful of potion at a full rolling boil. “Have I not made it perfectly clear, Zabini, that I will not tolerate attacks of that sort on your fellow students? Particularly not your fellow purebloods, blood traitors or not?”
Blaise went momentarily rigid with terror. He knows. He knows. He is a Legilimens, that rumor was true, he saw into my memories and he knows what I did—he’s going to throw me out of school, send me home in disgrace, I’ll never live it down—
“You may count yourself lucky,” said Snape with maliciously perfect diction, “that you are not being expelled at this time.”
“Thank you, Headmaster!” Blaise gasped in relief.
“However.” A smile appeared on Snape’s face, the first Blaise had seen from him. It looked far more predatory than friendly. “I am sorry to inform you that, based on my preliminary analysis of your potion, I doubt an antidote can be made. And Professor Slughorn concurs with me.”
Blaise’s elation turned to horror in an instant. No antidote? But that means...
“I expect you will behave politely and kindly towards your fellow students for the rest of the year,” Snape added. “All your fellow students. We will be watching to see that you do.”
And before Blaise could say another word, the Headmaster had turned and left the infirmary.
Far away, a different Blaise Zabini shook his head. “Stupid bastard,” he said without much heat, taking his hand away from the TVP. “He deserves it.” A smile for the tall, brown-haired girl beside him. “As much for being blind to true beauty as anything.”
Ginny humphed. “I think I’ve just been insulted,” she said, crossing her arms.
“Are you insulting my girlfriend?” Harry demanded of Blaise.
“No, I’m complimenting mine.” Blaise slid an arm around Colleen Lamb’s waist. “And congratulating myself on having excellent taste, unlike my counterpart.”
Colleen sighed. “I think what he’s trying to say,” she explained in her soft voice, “is that he’s proud of himself for having found a girl who was interested back.”
“Translating English into English now, are we?” asked Blaise, grinning at his girlfriend.
“Translating Slytherin into Gryffindor,” Colleen countered. “A far more daunting task.”
“True, true.” Blaise kissed her cheek. “I count myself lucky to have such an excellent translator around.”
“Nooooo!” The sound was barely understandable, but the heartbreaking sorrow on the face of the boy who now lurched through the audience (which was most of the sixth and seventh years currently attending Hogwarts) and fell on his knees in front of Blaise was unmistakable. “Do not kiss her! I love you!”
“You cannot love him!” shouted another boy, shoving forward to stand between Blaise and the kneeling boy with his arms crossed and a babyish pout on his face. “I loved him first!”
“I love him better!”
“I love him more!”
“I love him most!”
“Do not!”
“Do so!”
Under the cover of the audience’s laughter, Draco leaned over to Luna. “Lucky me,” he said, indicating Vince and Greg, who were now playing up their foot-stamping, each trying to outdo the other. “I get to see the real thing every day for the next however-many months.”
“It’ll get tiresome after a while, won’t it?” Luna watched as foot-stamping escalated into shoving. “I’m glad you can come here to rest.”
“Me too.” Draco laid his head against hers. “Everyone needs a rest sometimes.”
Vince and Greg’s shoving had given way to fighting, though this was mostly a matter of wildly overdone punches being swung at one another’s faces. Draco had a feeling Crabbe and Goyle weren’t going to be so restrained.
Stupid they may be. Inaccurate with their fists they’re not.
And somehow I doubt they’ll ever give it a rest.
Good thing these two will. One of the best bits of the day is yet to come...
Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny stared at the wireless.
“Did Lee just say...” Ginny began.
“Yeah.” Ron rubbed his right ear. “Yeah, he did.”
“Who knows that’s just a cover story?” Hermione asked. “Only your family, right?”
“Right.”
“But I bet a lot of the DA have guessed,” said Harry. “So they’ll know, or suspect, that means Ginny came with us.”
Ginny shushed him. “Listen to this,” she said, grinning. “See if you can tell who it is.”
“Welcome to the second edition of ‘Tips for Evil Overlords,’” said a familiar, dreamy voice. “I am the lovely Radiance, and tonight we’ll be covering a few basic rules for treatment of prisoners...”
“Since when is Luna sending bits to Potterwatch?” Ron demanded over the admonishments to keep keys well away from cell doors, make sure there was nothing in dungeons which could be turned into ropes or weapons, and always have captives guarded and checked over by members of the same sex.
“Since a couple weeks ago.” Ginny was listening intently. “Lee said there’d be someone new on tonight—maybe it’s this secret friend you were telling me about...”
“And now, over to my friend Reflection the Potter Spotter,” Luna said. “Reflection?”
“Thank you, lovely Radiance.” The voice which had taken Luna’s place was cheerful and quick, tantalizingly familiar to Harry’s ear but resisting identification. “I am indeed Reflection the Potter Spotter, and I’ll be telling you Where Harry Potter’s Been. Note, please, that I’m not telling you where he is. That would have fairly lethal consequences, both for him and for me. For him, obviously, because he’s got Death Eaters on his tail, and for me because... well...”
The voice took on the aural equivalent of scuffing a foot against the floor in embarrassment. “I haven’t always been as nice as I am now. Fact is, I’ve been mixed up in it with everyone who’s out there with Harry right now, and I always seem to come off worst. And that’s not even counting the man himself—ladies and gentlemen, I’ve dueled Mr. Harry Potter on at least three separate occasions, and every single one of those duels I have lost! So, for his safety and my own, my Potter Spotter reports will have a delay of exactly one week.”
Hermione was watching the wireless with a small, satisfied grin on her face. Ron was scowling, as though he too were having the unnerving feeling that he ought to be able to put a name with Reflection’s voice.
Harry took a sip of the butterbeer Hermione had left on the kitchen counter. I’m not entirely sure it’s a name I like, either...
“Disclaimers out of the way, let’s get to the important stuff—this is Where Harry Potter’s Been!”
What followed made Harry sit up straight. Whoever Reflection was, he had alarmingly good sources. Though the references were vague and he only ever mentioned regions, not specific towns or villages, it was obvious that he knew where the little tent had been pitched each and every night.
But we’re not following a pattern. No one could predict where we are now from where we were a week ago. And he isn’t saying how he finds it out, so it isn’t like the Death Eaters are going to be able to steal his method and home in on us. He hasn’t even said we’re camping, just that we’re moving around a lot. All he seems to want to do is encourage people, let them know we haven’t dropped off the face of the earth.
I still don’t like it.
And I have a feeling I should know who’s lost that many duels with me...
Severus restored the silver fog of memory to the small bottle in which it had mysteriously arrived on his desk earlier that evening. He had just finished viewing it again, and his opinion had not changed. Someone, somehow, had copied the memories of Miss Ginevra Weasley.
And judging from Potter’s current success in keeping himself hidden and extricating himself from difficulties, as much as I hate to admit it, she will be safer with him than she was here.
Not to mention, she has neatly solved the problem of a certain sword.
He looked around at Dumbledore’s portrait. “And how did you plan this one?” he inquired, eyebrow raised.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Severus,” said Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling brightly. “How long do you plan to let Zabini think there is no antidote to that potion he brewed?”
“Until the end of the year should do. It will take that long to prepare in any case.” And you know precisely what I’m talking about, old man. You simply choose to ignore it. But two can play at that game. “Has Poppy had any success yet in separating Nott and the elder Greengrass, do you know?”
“It was a difficult task,” Dumbledore said gravely. “Someone apparently laid a Body-Bind over them both just as they accomplished that particular position, then dragged them to a spot where they would be seen by most of the student body returning from Hogsmeade. Still, Poppy was equal to her work. They are, as of now, free and unharmed.”
Physically, Severus had no trouble finishing. And of course, it would be too much to expect that either of them got a look at their attacker. Potter, most likely, under his father’s double-damned Cloak.
Though it seems unlike Potter to put them on display.
For one moment, he savored that mental image again, then replaced it with Zabini’s face upon discovering he had, or so he thought, saddled himself with two overenthusiastic and oversized human lapdogs for life.
Cecy, my love, I hope you want to laugh tonight, for I surely have the best reason for it you have seen for a long time...
Dear Draco,
Thank you for the letter, and the news. Imagining the reactions of some who know you in your original world has given me the second best laugh I’ve had all year. Though I will admit that, for one at least, I did not have to imagine...
Silliness aside, congratulations to you both. I will meet you in Hogsmeade next week as you asked, so that we can start planning. Love goes to Luna, and to the rest of your merry band,
From your delighted
Mum
Author Notes:
That sufficient Draco and Luna for people? More of them to come, as Draco meets a few of the younger members of his House; has a closer encounter with runaway Muggleborns than he was counting on; and has to deal with a case of accidental discovery! I’m out of touch for this weekend, but after that the writing starts up again! The more encouragement, the better! And no, I’m not sorry for whatever images you may have encountered from the first part of the chapter. It’s your own fault for having a dirty mind.