Living without Danger
Chapter 9: Dreams and Desires (Year 1)
By Anne B. Walsh
Author Notes:
"White Christmas" belongs to Irving Berlin, not me.
Chapter 9: Dreams and Desires
Draco finished assembling his flute and set it carefully down on the nearby chair, opening his music folder and pulling out his latest piece. Amy Freeman had sent it along as an early Christmas gift for him, and one of the Pack-parents had copied it so that Luna could learn it as well. With several chromatic notes within the first few bars, it wasn’t exactly easy, but Draco knew it was within his capabilities.
He ran through a few quick warm-up exercises, then began to play, imagining Luna sitting at the piano beside him, providing accompaniment with her hands and words with her sweet, delicate voice…
I’m dreaming of a white Christmas,
Just like the ones I used to know,
Where the treetops glisten and children listen
To hear sleighbells in the snow...
The door opened behind him. Draco, concentrating on getting the high ornamentations in the middle of the song correct, was barely aware of it.
I’m dreaming of a white Christmas
With every Christmas card I write...
Something decidedly not white caught his eye — a flash of red hair. Still playing, he turned his head to see Harry and Ron standing in the doorway, listening.
May your days be merry and bright,
And may all your Christmases be white.
The last note trailed away.
"Early for den much?" asked Harry. "It’s only seven o’clock."
"I needed to practice, and this is the safest place to do it."
"Safest?" asked Ron. "What, are you afraid Peeves’ll jump out of the wall and bite you?"
"No, I’m afraid Seamus and Dean, or Nott and his little gang, are going to find out I play the flute, and then my name’s mud."
"How come? You’re good."
"It’s different for you. You play the drums. People think that’s cool, so you don’t have to worry. Or if I was a stuck-up pure-blood, I could claim my family made me take lessons. But I haven’t got an excuse — I like playing flute. And if anyone who wasn’t Pack found that out…"
"And what if they found out your usual duet partner is a girl?" queried Harry.
"Don’t even make me think about it."
"I think you just like hiding," said Ron. "You seem to do a lot of it."
Draco bristled slightly. "Is that an insult?"
"No." Ron grinned. "Do you want it to be?"
Draco recognized, belatedly, that he was being teased. So he did the only thing he could do.
He put down his flute on the piano and tackled Ron.
They scuffled on the floor in a friendly sort of way for a moment, more wrestling than really fighting. Harry ran into the nearest bedroom, armed himself, and started beating both of them indiscriminately, and they broke off their fight and teamed up against him.
The scene disintegrated into a full-scale pillow fight, with Hermione, who arrived in the middle of it, gleefully joining in just in time to save Draco from Harry and Ron’s pillow-wielding wrath, and Neville, who arrived somewhere near the end, watching in bewilderment as the teams changed, morphed, merged, and the fight finally ended in a free-for-all with people smacking each other every which way until they all collapsed in exhaustion.
xXxXx
Harry lay on the cushioned floor of the Hogwarts Den’s main room, catching his breath.
"Did you enjoy yourself, eggling?" asked a voice close to his ear.
"Siss!" Harry rolled over and scooped her up, stroking the top of her head. "Where have you been? I haven’t seen you in days."
"Exploring. I bit the prowling four-legged one when she tried to eat me."
Harry laughed aloud. "Three cheers for Siss," he said in English. "She bit Mrs. Norris!"
The cubs cheered for the snake, who gave a pleased hiss in response.
"Filch’s been grouchy for a couple days," said Ron. "Bet you anything that’s why."
"Where did you go after that?" Harry asked Siss, switching back to Parseltongue.
"I explored many rooms. In one I found something that intrigued me. It was like a pond of still water, but it stood upright on legs like a human or a bird."
Harry frowned, puzzled. "How was it like a pond if it was standing up?"
"I could see things in it that were not truly there, things that were only there to the eyes, not to the nose or the tongue…"
"Hold on a second." Harry got up and went into the bathroom, Siss wrapped loosely around his arm. "Like this?" he asked, holding her up so she could see the mirror.
The snake inspected her reflection. "Yes. And yet no. This shows only me, and you, and what is here in the room. The other showed many things that were not there."
It sounded like Siss had found a magical mirror of some sort, Harry thought. "Can you show me where it is?"
"I think I could find my way there again, yes."
"Great! Let’s go!"
"Now? Are you sure?"
"Why not?"
"Is it not your night to spend with your nest-group? And do you not have learning in the morning?" Siss’ tone took on the motherly sound she often got. "My eggling’s curiosity must not overwhelm his need to learn."
Harry very gently flicked her on the tail with his finger. "I have two mothers already — three, if you count Ron’s mum. I don’t need you nagging me too."
"But I enjoy it. Would you deprive me of what I so love?"
Harry smiled. "No, of course not. Can we go find the mirror this weekend, when I don’t have classes?"
"Of course."
"What did you do after you left the room with the mirror?"
"I found a room below the ground, with many human scents, including one like yours, but with much anger and fear in it, and other things you do not have. In that room I found a secret way into this nest of yours. It comes out in that room there." Siss indicated the green bedroom.
"How big of a secret way in?"
"It seems to be made for my people, not yours, eggling. It is very narrow and small, and would be hard for a human to find. No enemies will come that way."
"Good. Will you show it to me anyway?"
"If you like."
No one was much bothered by the fact that Siss was monopolizing him, Harry noticed as he crossed the main room. Ron and Draco were facing off across the chessboard, and Hermione and Neville were sitting at a small table that had appeared over by one wall, Hermione with a sheaf of parchment in her hand and Neville with one of their schoolbooks.
Hermione, as Harry had long suspected she would be, was top of the year in just about everything, and Neville was, well, not. Harry himself wasn’t brilliant, but he could follow most of the lessons, even if he couldn’t do the work very well at first. Ron was about par with him, and Draco fell somewhere in between them and Hermione. But Neville seemed to struggle with everything.
Neenie’ll help him. She always does.
"So where’s this secret way in?" he asked Siss, closing the door of the green bedroom behind him.
"Behind the headboard of the bed," said a voice.
A male voice.
Harry jumped and looked around for the source.
"Don’t get all scared, it’s just me," said the voice again. It was coming from the wall —
No, it was coming from the picture frame on the wall, which was showing only a green leather chair at the moment.
"Al? You’re a Parselmouth?"
"Always have been." Al emerged from behind the frame and sat down. "Why do you ask?"
Harry looked searchingly at the portrait. He knew, or thought he knew, that Parseltongue was an extremely rare gift, distinctive to a certain wizarding family… "Who are you, anyway? Or who were you?"
Al shrugged. "Just an ordinary bloke, not all that much different from you. I lived quite a while ago, but things really haven’t changed too much. There were Muggles and wizards back in my time too, and some people thought they were all human, and some people thought not. I was… caught in the middle, you could say. I ended up siding with the ‘all-human-together’ crowd, but it cost me… my family was almost all on the other side. My dad, my mum, my big brother Matt…"
Harry sat down on the bed, listening intently. Al’s eyes were far away, and Harry got the feeling he didn’t talk about this much.
"It wasn’t just me, either. My dad and his best friend had a fight over it. A couple of their other friends got in on it too, and when it was all over, my family was gone. Packed up and left. And I stayed here. I never saw them again."
Harry stared at a corner of the picture frame. He couldn’t imagine what his life would be like without the Pack. Even being at Hogwarts, he knew where they were, knew that if he needed them they were only an owl or a Floo call away.
"I made my choice, and I still think it was the right one, and all my friends tell me it was the right one." Al looked down at Harry. "But it’s still lonely. Even doing the right thing can be lonely sometimes."
Harry nodded, thinking of the years the Pack had spent in hiding, unable to tell even their friends who they really were…
"And now that I’ve probably ruined your evening with my boring little self-centered rant, why don’t you pull the bed out a bit and have a look at the hole your friend came in by."
Harry tugged at the bed until it moved, then went to his knees to look at the wall behind it. Sure enough, there was a hole the size of his hand at floor level, not a chewed or gnawed hole like a pest might leave, but one built into the wall. "Did whoever originally used this room have a pet snake or something?"
"Or something," said Al, looking faintly amused as Harry got to his feet again. "Listen, Harry, it’s getting close to Christmas, isn’t it?"
"Yeah."
"You going home for the holidays?"
Harry nodded.
"Do me a favor?"
"What?"
"Tell Danger Alex says hi."
"How do you know Danger?" asked Harry, a bit taken aback. "And who’s Alex?"
"It’s a long story, and she can probably tell it better than I can. Besides, I have to get going. Will you tell her that for me?"
"All right."
"Thanks." Al hurried out of the portrait, leaving his chair once again the sole occupant of the frame.
"What was that about?" asked Siss. "You changed back to human words after a little while, and I do not understand your language well."
"I’m a human and I’m not sure I understand it." Harry recounted Al’s story as best he could.
Siss gave the serpentine wiggle that equated to a shrug. "Disagreements always exist, my eggling. Even within families."
Harry felt a slight chill. He didn’t want to think of a dispute splitting the Pack, setting them one against another.
The trouble was, now that he’d started thinking of it, he couldn’t stop.
Not even the usual business of a den-night — games, stories, and music, as everyone took a turn choosing Christmas carols — could entirely get the question out of Harry’s mind. Could something happen to the Pack, to make them that angry with each other? Could something split them up so completely that some of them would leave forever?
Al’s words kept returning to him.
"My dad, my mum, my big brother… I never saw them again."
xXxXx
In Devon, a man and a woman waited for moonrise.
That stuff leaves a nasty aftertaste, Remus commented from his place on the bedroom floor.
You agreed to it. Danger was sitting across from him, very carefully not touching him.
So does that mean I’m not allowed to complain about it?
Yes.
Fine. In that case, you’re not ever allowed to complain about our marriage ever again.
What? Why?
Because you agreed to it.
Danger growled softly, then tensed as the moon began to rise. I really don’t like this, she thought to herself. Scientific knowledge or not, we should be together.
But they had both agreed to do this, and she knew Remus would see it through. So it was her bounden duty to do the same.
No matter how much I hate it.
xXxXx
Remus focused on keeping his mind shielded as the change began. He had agreed to this — the more fool, I — and he’d be damned if he’d let Danger see how much pain it was putting him through.
I never quite realized the extent of what she does.
The Wolfsbane Potion changed only the mindlessness of the werewolf. It did nothing to alleviate the physical pain involved in an involuntary change from one form to another. And Remus had never been fully aware of how much it hurt to transform untamed, because his human mind had always been sublimated beneath the wolf by the time the change was really underway.
Well, now he knew.
It hurts a lot.
He couldn’t stop himself from whining somewhat as the change progressed; he was actually rather proud that he’d kept it to that, since his first instinct had been to go for a full-fledged howl.
It feels like all my bones are being reshaped. Not broken — quite — but twisted. And all the muscles with them.
No wonder I always used to wake up feeling like I’d been through a natural disaster. Twice.
Finally, it was over. He was fully wolf, sprawled panting on the floor of the bedroom, aching in every joint. Danger’s mind was still sealed to him — she might not be aware it was over yet.
A low whuffle made him look up. The door of the bedroom had opened. A bear-like black dog padded into the room and sniffed at him. I know you, the dog communicated animal-wise. You’re that stupid wolf bloke I run around with.
Watch who you’re calling stupid, Remus shot back, wincing at the activity required to communicate at that level of intensity.
Cool off, you know I didn’t mean it like that. The dog lay down beside him and gently bumped its skull against his.
"You are an idiot," said a well-known voice, tartly but without true anger, and Remus felt strong, long-fingered hands begin to massage his shoulders. "And you are never doing this again. It’s too hard on both of you."
He looked foggily up at Aletha. How did she know where I hurt most? he wondered idly, most of his attention going to how wonderful the massage felt.
"The shoulders are the place where the wolf form is least like the human," said Aletha, digging her fingers deep into his sore muscles. "Because the shoulders don’t bear weight in the human form, but in the wolf form they do. So I thought you might well hurt more there than anywhere else. But don’t worry, I’ll get to some of the other places in a while."
The Pack takes care of its own, said Sirius in animal-speech. Always.
Remus thumped his tail on the floor in approval of both statements. I wouldn’t mind if she gave me a full-body rub, he told Danger as he felt her presence return. It doesn’t hurt nearly as much now.
Well, there are a few places she’s not allowed to go. They’re mine.
Do I detect a note of jealousy in that precious little voice?
No. Maybe. Yes. Danger’s mental tone was highly loaded — annoyance, concern, fear, worry, and yes, jealousy, were all present. It just feels all wrong that they can touch you and I can’t, tonight of all nights.
I want to be able to give Andy an accurate reading of what it’s like to transform with the Potion, and that means I have to be sure your power isn’t, if you’ll pardon the word, tainting the experiment.
I won’t pardon it. It’s unpardonable. So there. Danger stuck out her tongue at him from across the room.
Remus lifted his head and yawned, displaying his splendid canine tongue. Mine is longer. So there.
Show-off.
True. The Potion does what it’s designed to do splendidly — I never felt a trace of the wolf-mind. Unfortunately, it’s so incredibly complex already that trying to add a pain-killing aspect to it might well ruin it, and taking any of the more common pain-relieving potions in combination with it might have a bad effect. Something for Andy to look into, if she’s so minded.
Aletha was working her way down Remus’ front paws, or arms, or whatever, and Sirius was a comfortingly warm presence against his back. Danger might not be able to touch him in body, but she was present in his mind. Meghan had been a bit miffed at missing her usual den-night, but the Pack had promised they would den the next night to make up for it, and the girl had eventually accepted the inevitable and gone to bed.
The upper half of his body felt almost as good as it usually did on a full moon night. Aletha rubbed her hands together for a moment, then started massaging his hips. Sirius gave a loud sigh, and Remus echoed him, feeling the tension sliding out of him as surely as the pain Aletha was wicking away with her clever hands.
Life goes on. Even when we do stupid things.
At least you’re willing to admit it, was Danger’s comment.
xXxXx
When Harry finally fell asleep that night, long after everyone else (Hermione was utterly merciless about enforcing lights-out time in den), he discovered something well-known to his elders; falling asleep with disturbing thoughts was a sure road to bad dreams.
Very bad dreams.
xXxXx
"Draco?" he heard a voice ask. It took him a moment to recognize it as his own — it was high-pitched and wistful. "Why are you going away?"
Draco looked up from the bag he was packing and sighed. He looks older. A couple years older, at least. "I can’t explain, Harry. It’s too complicated."
"Please?" Harry persisted. The strange duality of dreams took over long enough for him to realize that he, in this dream, had been cast as the little brother — he felt about eight years old to Draco’s thirteen. The five days’ age difference between them had stretched to five years. Then he snapped back into single focus, a little boy unhappy that his adored big brother was leaving. "Please try?"
Draco looked torn. "I don’t want you to get hurt, Greeneyes," he said, sounding protective in a way Harry had never heard the real Draco be to anyone but Meghan. "I don’t want anyone to get hurt. So I have to go. And you have to promise not to tell anyone I went. Do you promise?"
"Will you come back?"
Draco zipped his bag shut. "I can’t," he said very softly, so softly Harry had to strain to hear him. "Not unless… no. It won’t happen." He stood up. "I can’t come back, Harry. I have to go, and keep moving, and not tell anyone where I am. And you have to promise — cross your heart — that you won’t tell anyone, not anyone, that I left." He gave a little, bitter, smile. "You won’t have to tell them, they’ll figure it out. But you have to promise not to tell them anything about when I left, or which way I went. That’s the only way everyone can be safe. Do you promise?"
"Cross my heart and hope to die," said Harry unhappily, drawing the X there with his finger. Then he lunged at Draco and hugged him. "I don’t want you to go," he muttered into the bigger boy’s chest.
"I don’t want me to go either," answered Draco quietly, hugging him back. "But I have to." Gently, he pulled Harry off him, picked up his bag, and slung it over his shoulder. "Goodbye." He turned and left the bedroom.
The dream fast-forwarded to another part. Harry was sitting in a big armchair, feeling very scared. Padfoot was pacing around in front of him, looking angrier than Harry had ever seen him. "I don’t care if you promised," his godfather growled. "I don’t care if he made you swear up and down — don’t you understand, his life could depend on this!"
Harry shook his head vehemently. Draco had made him promise. He wasn’t going to break his word…
He never even saw Padfoot move. Suddenly he was dangling in midair, his feet off the ground, held aloft by his shoulders and being shaken. "You are going to tell me," Padfoot snarled at him between shakes. "Right now. Or you are going to wish we’d left you with the Muggles!"
"Sirius! Put him down!" a voice shouted from the doorway.
Harry saw something connect with the side of Padfoot’s head, an instant before Padfoot yelled in pain and let him go. The impact knocked the wind out of him, and he lay there for a moment, gasping for air, listening to Padfoot curse. "Merlin’s arse, Letha, that hurt!"
"Good." Letha stormed into the room and glared at Padfoot. "Because terrifying and threatening our only source of information is not going to help anything. Not to mention, he happens to be your godson whom you love. Look at him. Look at him!"
Harry had crawled out of the way as soon as he’d recovered his breath. Now he was hidden in the best place he could find, between the end of the couch and the wall, hoping he wouldn’t have to go behind or under the couch. He hated little enclosed places, but anything would be better than going back out there right now.
"Yes, well, my other son, whom I also love, is currently out in the world somewhere. Every minute, every second he’s gone he’s more at risk — if we don’t find him soon, we won’t have two sons!"
"And if you don’t get your act together, you won’t have any sons. Or a wife."
"Is that a threat?"
"It could be. Answer me this. Are you willing to sacrifice Harry for Draco?"
A long silence. Harry pressed his back against the wall, wishing his family was still as solid as the wall was —
And then the wall gave way.
Harry cried out as he fell backwards, tumbling heels over head, down, down, down —
xXxXx
"Harry?"
His eyes snapped open. Ron’s blurry face was looming over him with an expression of worry. "You were yelling, mate. Are you all right?"
"Fine," said Harry, sitting up, forcing himself to breathe slowly. "I’m fine. It was just a bad dream."
The rest of his little Pack was gathered around him, not staring at him exactly, but obviously concerned and wanting to be sure he was all right. Harry felt himself flushing a bit. Great, I woke everyone up…
"I got your glasses," said Neville, handing them over.
"Thanks." Harry unfolded them and settled them on his face, and immediately felt a bit better. Not being able to see clearly was always a little troubling.
Hermione moved a bit closer to him and scent-touched him, and he returned it. "Was it bad?" she asked quietly.
Harry shrugged. "I’ve had worse."
"What was it about?" asked Draco.
Harry looked at his brother — his own age, horribly annoying, but alive and safe — and crossed his fingers behind his back. "I don’t remember."
There might be no privacy in a Pack, but some things were not meant to be shared.
Then he remembered something that was.
"Who wants to go on an adventure this weekend?" he asked.
Ron’s and Draco’s hands were up like a shot. Hermione was only an instant behind.
"What kind of adventure?" asked Neville.
"Just a little exploring. Siss found something interesting — I think it’s a kind of magic mirror — and I want to have a look at it. She said it reflected things that weren’t there."
"Things that weren’t there?" repeated Hermione. "That sounds interesting — I wonder if it shows what’s happening somewhere else?"
"Or maybe it’s like those Muggle visitellions," said Ron.
The cubs groaned. "Televisions, Ron," said Draco. "Honestly, that’s like calling the Chudley Cannons the Motley Mannikins…"
Neville dodged as Ron, pillow in hand, flung himself at Draco and started beating the blond boy thoroughly. Of course, Harry and Hermione came to their brother’s rescue, and Neville joined in this time, taking Ron’s part as the underdog, and by the time they called a truce, Harry had all but forgotten his dream in truth.
It’s not like it’s ever really going to happen, anyway…
xXxXx
It was, in point of fact, two weeks before the five finally got around to their planned exploration, since all the teachers seemed to have suddenly realized that term was ending and loaded on the homework. Wood, as well, was taking advantage of a sudden mild spell of weather and scheduling extra Quidditch practices, so that Harry was frantically busy for nearly a week and a half before a good hard snow halfway through the last week of classes cooled Wood’s ardor — or perhaps what did it was Fred and George sneaking into his dorm and freezing his sheets.
For one reason or another, though, it wasn’t until the last day of classes was over that the Pack of five finally had both the time and the energy to sneak out of the dorm at night. Neville was a bit nervous about the whole thing, but every time Harry asked him if he wanted to stay behind he shook his head.
Getting out of the common room was the easy part — no one was really paying attention to anything except their friends and the glorious fact of the holidays ahead, so not even Percy Weasley noticed his little brother and said brother’s four friends slipping out of the portrait hole at a time of night they really shouldn’t be. It helped, of course, that Draco had bribed Fred and George to "accidentally" set Parvati Patil’s robes on fire.
That wasn’t very nice to Parvati, said Hermione through the pendant chain she had enlarged and thrown over everyone’s shoulders before they put on the Invisibility Cloak, safely down the hall and out of sight of the Fat Lady, who was perfectly capable of blabbing that they had such a treasure.
They didn’t hurt her — Percy was right there, he put it out straight away, and now he gets to do the prefect thing and scold Fred and George, said Ron. So we’re really making three people happy. Fred and George get to tweak Percy’s nose, and Percy gets to yell at them for it.
Imagining the twins literally tweaking Percy’s nose, Harry felt an overwhelming urge to laugh. "Which way, Siss?" he said instead.
"It is down some floors. Near the place of many tree-story-things which your sister loves so. That would be a good place to start."
Heading for the library, everyone, Harry broadcast, and the group set off.
"You must let me move on my own," Siss told Harry when they reached the library. "So that I can find my own scent-trail and follow it."
Harry put the snake on the ground. She cast about for a moment, flicking her tongue, then slithered away to the left, and the Gryffindors followed her, Neville offering silent apologies as he trod on people’s feet.
They turned here and there, passing snoozing portraits and a suit of armor, following the tip of Siss’ retreating tail, until finally she turned right and slid through a half-open door. "This is the room," she hissed. "I smell no one else here. You will be safe to take off your camouflage."
Right in here, Harry told everyone, and Ron pushed the door open wide enough to admit them all. Once inside, they took the Cloak off, and Hermione folded it neatly as Draco shut the door behind them.
"It’s big," said Neville, looking at what Siss had found.
It was big. As tall as the ceiling, set in an ornate gold frame with two clawed feet at the bottom, the mirror had an inscription carved at the top. Harry squinted up at it, wishing the light was a little better.
"Lumos," said Hermione behind him, and the light abruptly was better.
Should have thought of that.
"Erised stra ehru oyt..." Ron tried to sound out the lettering. "That’s not English."
"Ube cafru oyt on wohsi," Draco finished. "No, it isn’t. But it isn’t anything else I’ve ever heard of either."
"Maybe it’s code," said Harry, reading it over again. Something about the words bothered him, as if he ought to know how to make them make sense, but he just couldn’t think of it...
Neville, looking at the ornamentations in the frame, stepped in front of the mirror to get a closer look. Harry saw him glance at his reflection and do a classic double-take.
"Neville?"
Neville didn’t move.
"Neville, what’s wrong?"
Silence. The cubs and Ron traded baffled looks. Neville was staring into the mirror, and as Harry watched, his hand rose and touched the glass, above his reflection’s head and to the right. Then again, a bit higher this time, on the left.
"Siss, what kind of things did you see when you looked in the mirror?" asked Harry without taking his eyes off Neville.
"Strange things. My sire and dam, and some of my nest-mates. Hesseh. You, eggling, speaking to them. I did not understand."
"I don’t understand either."
Neville made an odd sort of sound, a sniffling hiccup, and Harry saw with a little shock that his friend’s eyes were tearing up. The other boy had both hands flat against the glass now, his nose almost pressed against it, as if he were hoping to fall through it somehow...
Moved by an impulse he didn’t quite understand, Harry stepped forward and placed a hand on Neville’s shoulder.
Neville jumped as if Harry had given him an electric shock. "They’re gone!" he said, scanning the mirror almost frantically. "You made them go away!"
"Who?" asked Harry.
"My parents! They were there, standing one on either side of me, I could see them, and now they’re gone! Didn’t you see them?"
Harry shook his head. "All I saw was you," he said, turning to the rest of the group for confirmation. Nodding heads greeted him.
"But — I know I saw them..." Neville looked as if he were going to cry.
"Maybe it only works on one person at a time," said Ron. "Let me have a look?"
Neville nodded, and he and Harry got out of the way so that Ron could stand in front of the mirror.
Ron stared transfixed at his image. "It’s me — but I look older — and I’m head boy!" he said excitedly. "I’m wearing the badge and everything! And I’m Quidditch captain, too — I’ve got the house cup and the Quidditch cup — do you think this mirror shows the future?"
"I... don’t think it can," said Draco slowly. "Let me have a go?"
Ron looked reluctant, but relinquished his place, and Draco stepped in front of the mirror. Whatever he saw, it made him take a step back. "Definitely not the future," he said, still staring. "Or the past. I don’t think what it shows is even real."
"What do you see?" Hermione asked.
Draco shook his head, turning away. "Nothing important. Do you want a turn, Harry?"
Harry was about to nod when an urgent hiss from the floor attracted his attention. "Someone comes! The night-walking one, who owns the prowler, he comes!"
"Filch!" hissed Harry, snatching the Cloak from under Hermione’s arm. They all dived underneath it, just in time, as Argus Filch, the castle caretaker, crashed the door open.
"Found you!" he snarled, before noticing the room was empty. Harry had a hard time keeping his laughter under control at the look on Filch’s face, and from the stifled noises emanating from Ron, he wasn’t the only one.
"Know you’re in here," muttered Filch, peering around the room, behind the stacked desks and chairs, coming once within a few inches of stepping on Harry’s toes. "Out of bed, wandering around, making trouble, making noise..."
Harry had both hands over his mouth. Hermione was "assisting" Ron and Neville with one hand apiece. Draco appeared to be holding his breath.
"Must have nipped out just in time," grumbled Filch finally, turning to leave. "I’ll get you next time, never think I won’t..."
The door closed behind him. The young Pack relaxed.
"We should get out of here," said Harry firmly. "That was too close."
"But I didn’t get a turn," protested Hermione.
"And I want another go," said Ron.
"No." Harry was sure. "Filch could come back any minute. We need to get out of here. Come on." With Draco’s help, he managed to get the other three moving, and somehow they made it back to Gryffindor Tower without getting caught.
Hermione, looking sulky, went straight up the girls’ stairs without even saying good night. Neville hurried up the boys’, still looking rather distressed. Ron perched on the arm of one of the chairs, grinning. "Head boy," he said happily. "And Quidditch captain."
"Be nice if you could do it," said Draco. "Lot of work, though."
"Yeah... I think I’ll go to bed. See if I can’t dream of that."
"Good night," said Harry as Ron headed for the stairs. He looked down at Siss. "Quite a strange thing you found," he remarked.
"This place is full of strange things. I am sure there are many more left to find." Siss wound her way up his arm to the shoulder, under the sleeve of his pajamas.
"I’m sure you’re right." Harry looked over at Draco, who was staring into the fire. "Want to tell?" he asked quietly. "Just the two of us?"
Draco’s face became the utterly calm mask he used when he was hiding something. "Nothing interesting," he said.
Harry disagreed with one of Padfoot’s favorite expressions.
"Better not let Letha and Danger hear you say that or they’ll wash your mouth out."
Harry grimaced. "With laundry soap."
"Or with a Scourgify. Or maybe both."
"Both, gah, double trouble. But I still want to know."
Draco slid to the floor and lay on the hearthrug, heels in the air, staring into the fire, in a pose Harry found reminiscent of the first time he’d ever seen the boy who had become his brother...
"It was my parents," said Draco finally, so quietly Harry could barely hear him over the crackles and pops of the fire. "My blood parents. Lucius and Narcissa. But they looked different than they do in the pictures. They weren’t stuck-up or proud. They were... smiling at me. Nice smiles. They looked..."
Harry waited.
"They looked like they loved me."
"Your mum did love you," said Harry after another long pause, not sure he was doing right, but wanting to say something, anything, to break the silence, which was becoming very uncomfortable.
"I know. But... it’s not that there’s anything wrong with the Pack, there isn’t, I love the Pack, you know that. But I can’t help thinking. What if it hadn’t had to happen? What if my father," the word sounded like a curse, "hadn’t been such a bloody fool? What if he’d been decent? What if I’d had the chance to grow up with them instead of with the Pack?"
Harry didn’t know how to answer this, but Draco didn’t seem to expect an answer. Instead he came down and sat beside Draco, watching the fire, which was burning low in the grate. "We should go to bed," he said after a few minutes. "We have to be up in time for the train tomorrow."
"All right." Draco sat up.
Harry brushed two fingers down his own cheek, then reached over to tap Draco’s. "Dream well," he said.
"You too." Draco returned the gesture.
The brothers climbed the stairs to bed.
xXxXx
"Mrs. Longbottom, it’s good to see you, I was hoping you’d be here," said Aletha the next day at King’s Cross, shaking Augusta Longbottom’s hand. "We’re hoping you and Neville can come to our Christmas party — here’s the invitation, just to make it formal, and so you don’t forget — it’s the 27th at our house, it starts at four and lasts until we all get tired and go home."
"We would be delighted," said Mrs. Longbottom, glancing at the invitation card and slipping it into her handbag. "I’ll be sending you a more formal acceptance when I get home, of course, but as long as there is no previous engagement, which I believe is the case, I accept with pleasure."
"Neville!" cried Meghan with delight as the boy appeared from the barrier with Ron Weasley beside him. She darted forward and embraced him, making him blush a bit, but he hugged her back.
"Thanks for all the letters," he said, smiling at her. "Sorry I didn’t write more."
"It’s all right, you’re busy — and you never forgot all the way. Even if you didn’t write on your own, you’d ask Harry or Hermione to say hello in theirs."
"Hello, Mrs. Freeman-Black," said Ron, parking his trolley near her. "Harry and the others are coming, the line’s just moving slow. Where’s everyone else?"
"Danger stopped at a bookstore along the way, and Remus stayed to keep her from buying anything she can’t afford. They should be along soon. And I’m really not sure where Sirius is..."
"Right behind you," said her husband’s voice as his arms slid over her shoulders. "Any sign of the cubs?"
"Ron says they’re coming — ah, there they are."
Harry’s untidy black mop and Draco’s sleek pale head emerged from the crowd, with Hermione’s brown bushy mass beside them. All three were pushing or pulling trolleys, Harry’s with Hedwig in her cage on top of his trunk. Aletha waved, and Harry caught sight of her and waved back, pointing her out to the other two.
"Did we miss anything?" asked Remus, arriving on the scene, slightly out of breath, with Danger behind him, holding a plastic bag with the booksellers’ name on it.
"No, here they are," was all Aletha had time to say before three trolleys bumped to a halt in front of her, and she was suddenly faced with a dilemma — who to hug first.
Harry solved it for her by homing in on her as if she’d Summoned him.
"Oof — I’m glad to see you, too, Greeneyes, but you need to let me breathe," she said jokingly, hugging him back. "Is something wrong?"
"Not really," she felt, more than heard, since his face was pressed against her shoulder. He pulled away to look up at her. "I’m just glad to be home."
"And we’re glad to have you," said Aletha, kissing him on the forehead, then scent-touching him. "Come on, the Weasleys left us their car to use while they’re in Egypt. Let’s get this holiday under way."
And have we ever got a surprise for you at home...