Chapter 3

***************************

“Oi! Give over, mate! That’s my copy of "The Quibbler", Harry reached for the copy of the paper that Ron had grabbed away from him when he returned from getting them each another pint. They were on their lunch break at the Leaky Cauldron and Harry, who didn’t have to punch a clock like Ron did, being a “public relations liaison” for the Auror department, rather than a mere junior level Auror, had as much time as he cared to take for lunch. As far as Ron was concerned, that meant Harry bought lunch, Harry fetched the drinks, and Harry could wait to read the bloody paper until Ron was done reading it.

“Just let me check our Lovegood’s column, won’t you?” Ron mumbled, waving Harry away. Harry raised a well-groomed eyebrow but sat down meekly. Ron in a mood was not worth dealing with sometimes. Besides, casting a quick Tempus (wandless and non-verbal but Ron wasn’t paying attention so Harry risked being called a show-off in order to find out the time without risking being yelled at for reminding Ron that he didn’t get to take long lunches–sometimes it was like walking on eggshells only quite frankly, that was easier for Harry), he determined that he wouldn’t have to put up with Ron’s mood much longer. Another ten minutes and Ron would have to scurry back to work.

“Bollocks! I should have known!” Ron’s face turned bright red.

“What’s wrong?” Harry asked, curious to know what in “The Quibbler” could have caused such a reaction. “Has the long-necked Horn-blast finally been captured, putting an end to your dream of being the one to snare that elusive beast?” He grinned teasingly.

Ron looked back at him sheepishly. He folded the paper and tucked it into a pocket in his robes.

“Nah, I was just reading the new advice column. Was wondering who Luna got to write it. Sounds like a pretty sensible sort, actually.”

Harry smiled whimsically. “A sensible sort? Writing the advice column for Luna and her dad? What would be the point of reading that? I always thought the fun of the old column was the nonsensical nature of the advice.”

Ron shifted uncomfortably. “Well, sure. But sometimes there was good advice in it, didn’t you think? I mean, people write to those columns for a reason, don’t they?”

“Oh, are those real letters? I always kind of thought they were made up by the staff of the paper,” Harry said. “At least the ones in the Prophet, that is. Why should the letters in the advice column be any different than anything else in that rag, after all?” he asked rhetorically. “But as for Mr. Lovegood’s column, I guess you’re right. Both him and Luna have way too much integrity to ever make up letters from the lovelorn.” Harry shook his head at the idea. “Though I still have trouble imagining who would send a letter to a newspaper asking advice. Luna’s a great friend and all but I don’t think I’d trust her, much less her dad, with my love life problems. Not that I have any love life to speak of,” he hastened to add.

Ron was eager to shift the focus back to Harry. “Well, maybe you should write and ask advice on how to get over a crush on a pointy-faced, poncy git, who....”

“Maybe you should write in and ask how to get over school day grudges that have no purpose in the post war climate of cooperation and rebuilding?” a stern voice asked sharply as they were joined by a young pretty witch, dressed in somber black robes, her brown hair pulled back in a tight bun reminiscent of Professor McGonnagall, and a tall handsome wizard, dressed in expensively cut, emerald robes, which were etched with silver. He wore his wavy dark hair long, in the pure-bred style, but the wry humor that lit his dark brown eyes as much as the dragon fang earring that decorated his right ear, proclaimed that Blaise Zabini, a Slytherin, and as pure-blooded as the Malfoys, was far from a wizarding world traditionalist.

“But if it weren’t for our school day grudges over house affiliations, whatever else would we have to talk about over a pint, Hermione? Quidditch?” Blaise affected a bored shudder that caused Hermione to laugh and made Harry grin. He liked Blaise.

Ron glared. “There’s nothing funny about Quidditch,” Ron insisted belligerently.

Blaise looked at him limpidly, resting his chin on his hand. “Darling Ronald, finally, we agree. I knew it was bound to happen. Thousands of monkeys in a room, typewriters clacking, work of Shakespeare, you know how it goes. I always doubted it myself, but there you have it! We’ve known each other, what? Twelve, fourteen years? I forget, it isn’t important. The fact is, always, we fight, yes? But now, long before a thousand years, we come at last to an agreement! There is nothing amusing whatsoever about Quidditch! Who would have thought that you and I would share thought, much less this one? Why, I’ve been saying the same thing to Draco forever and still he insists that Quidditch is thrillingly entertaining!” Blaise raised his head. By the end of his dramatic speech, he was waving both hands in the air as though exasperated beyond belief with his best friend.

Hermione and Harry snickered while Ron struggled to contain his annoyance. Through gritted teeth he replied, “What I meant was that Quidditch is amusing and entertaining...what isn’t funny is....I mean....” Before he could get his thoughts organized, Blaise interrupted with another burst of zealous affability.

“So it is Draco with whom you agree? Well, I am disheartened for my sake that we do not agree, but my disappointment is lessened by my happiness that you and my good friend Draco have this point of commonality in your thinking. It must stand as a lesson to all your friends in the powers of sport to build bridges of civility, proof that all of us, Slytherins and Gryffindors alike, can find common grounds if we look hard enough. Let us drink a toast to friendship...and Quidditch!”

Blaise’s persistent good humor was more than Ron could combat as the cheery Italian wizard gestured for the waitress to come over. He then ordered a round of drinks for the room–on him–to celebrate what he insisted on proclaiming to the room at large as the Weasley/Malfoy Quidditch Accord. Ron’s face was as red as his hair, as broadly grinning fellow Aurors lifted their mugs in cheerful acknowledgment of the proclamation that “Quidditch has been deemed both amusing and entertaining by the Honorable Ronald Bilius Weasley and Lord Draco Malfoy “

Pansy Parkinson happened to walk in just as Blaise finished making this announcement. Seeing his friends biting their lips as they tried not to laugh, while Blaise waited with exaggerated politeness, Ron couldn’t do much but glower impotently as Blaise amused himself at his expense. At least, that was how Ron saw the situation. Pansy, who was much more astute than people gave her credit for being, took in the situation at a glance.

As she slid into the booth next to Harry and Blaise, she punched the latter on the arm– hard– causing him to jump back, wincing in pain. It also made him shut up. Harry winced also, in sympathy. Hermione frowned; she worked well with both Slytherins these days as they assisted Professor Snape in his research, but she still felt that Pansy Parkinson was a strange girl. It was an opinion that Pansy didn’t mind since she felt the same way about Hermione Granger. She couldn’t quite understand what a down-to-earth, lusty, pure-blood wizard like Ron Weasley saw in a bossy, up-tight, frizzy-haired, muggle-born bookworm with no fashion sense like Granger. It wasn’t that she didn’t like Granger, she did, as much as she liked any other female. She just didn’t understand why the couple was together. Anyone could see that they had nothing in common. Still, it wasn’t nice of Blaise to tease the poor guy so much.

“Be nice,” She ordered Blaise, before turning to Ron. “Don’t pay any attention to him. He thinks he’s a humorist...someone on the order of Oscar Wilde...or Jerry Lewis.”

Harry and Hermione both shook their heads.

“Are you saying that...”

“Oscar Wilde was...”

“Jerry Lewis is...”

“... a wizard?” they asked in unison.

“Of course!" The three pure-bred wizards looked at them in surprise. Ron grimaced when he realized that he was reacting like the two Slytherins. Pansy smiled brightly at him before turning to look at Hermione.

“Have you been over to see Draco lately? Severus ran some new blood work and we can begin work on a new potion this week.”

With that, Hermione’s attention was focused on the potion work the three of them shared. Ron and Harry were forgotten. “Did the potion from last week show any results? Was he able to move at all?” Her brown eyes gleamed with excitement.

Harry tried not to appear too interested and Ron wasn’t interested in the least but it didn’t matter, Pansy shook her head, indicating to the other girl that they would have to discuss the rest later. Hermione flushed. She’d become so intent on hearing what Pansy had to say, she’d forgotten that they weren’t to speak of Draco’s condition in front of others. Ron rolled his eyes.

“What, you can’t talk about the ferret? Well, I like that! Talk about nerve! It isn’t like it isn’t bad enough that you had to take a job working for the greasy git but you also have to donate all sorts of extra time to his special project for the ferret. And since when did he become so all-fired classified that you can’t even talk about what his condition is? He can’t walk, it isn’t like it’s a secret or anything. Besides, Harry and I let you help us defeat Voldemort, but now we can’t be trusted to hear how precious widdle Malfoy....”

“Stop it, Ron!” Harry’s angry hiss, startled everyone at the table. Ron stared at his best friend, totally gob-smacked. Hermione's hand had crept over her mouth and her eyes were bright now with held back tears. This wasn’t the first time Ron had taken off her head over some perceived slight arising from her work with Snape. Harry was tired of it.

“We didn’t ‘let’ Hermione help us! We never would have gotten anywhere without her! And I’d be dead without Draco, not to mention Professor Snape, so just stop it.”

The two best friends stared at each other. Ron stood up. He straightened his robes then lifted his chin and spoke in a dignified fashion. “I need to get back to the office. I hope you all enjoy your lunch,” he said stiffly.

“Oh Ron, don’t leave angry,” Hermione protested.

“Let him go,” Harry interjected, standing also. “Maybe after thinking things over for a bit, he’ll have a clearer recollection of what we owe Malfoy and Professor Snape, and what you did in the war as well.”

Ron’s face turned even redder. Blaise looked at it curiously. He didn’t know skin could take on that color.

“Maybe I will,” Ron told Harry coldly. “Or maybe you’ll come to your senses. It could be that all of those trips you’ve been taking to New York and Rome to get your bits waxed has addled what little brains you have left.” With that parting shot, Ron apparated away with a swirl of robes worthy of Severus Snape himself.

Silence fell over the table. Harry slowly sank down into his seat, his expression masked. Hermione looked distressed. The two Slytherins exchanged speaking looks and after communicating silently, Blaise snapped his fingers, summoning a copy of the The Quibbler. Harry and Hermione looked up, surprised. Pansy smiled. How typical of Blaise to use impressive wandless, non-verbal magic to perform a simple parlour trick.

“We need to lighten the mood, I think,” Blaise announced. “What does the The Quibbler have to offer today?”

“Luna is a friend of Harry’s and mine,” Hermione warned him. “So don’t make fun of her newspaper.”

“Make fun of The Quibbler?” Blaise appeared genuinely shocked by the suggestion. “I wouldn’t think of it. Best investigative reporting in the wizarding world. Mother always said old Xeno had more on the ball than anyone else in their generation, and that next to Dumbledore, Voldemort should have worried about him, since he couldn’t stop him from printing the truth. Mother is a smart woman, which is why she was one of the few Slytherins of her generation to escape his clutches. Of course, she claims he never really tried to recruit her because old Tom couldn’t stand being around anyone prettier than him. Lucius Malfoy was tolerated because he was blond; being a dark beauty, mother was too much competition.”

Hermione and Harry laughed at Blaise’s confidential tone. Encouraged, he went on, “I simply adore Lovegood’s Advice to the Lovelorn. I’ve missed it since he’s stopped writing it, but I heard a rumor that it would start up again soon.” With a charming smile excusing himself, Blaise set the paper’s pages to flipping until they stopped to the page where the picture of a smiling woman sipping at a teacup looked up at them placidly.

“Asking Abby, the new column for Wizards and Witches Seeking Solutions to Love’s Dilemmas,” Pansy read, looking over Blaise’s arm. “My, she does look wise. Though a bit sweet for my taste. Kind of like a cross between a Ravenclaw and a Hufflepuff, wouldn’t you say?”

“I shudder to imagine what such a breeding experiment would produce, Miss Parkinson. Whatever could the four of you be perusing?”

Severus Snape and Remus Lupin had approached their table while the four younger people were busy staring at the new columnist for the The Quibbler.

“Professors!” All four of them scrambled to stand up. Ordinarily, Hermione and Harry would call Remus by his first name, but in front of Professor Snape, a certain formality reigned.

“Ladies and gentlemen, please, as you were.” Snape waved his hand languidly.

“Would you like to join us, Professior Snape, Professior Lupin?” Hermione asked politely. Harry looked at her as if she were crazy. His appalled face must have made something impish in Snape awaken as, to Lupin’s surprise, he inclined his head slowly. “Why yes, Miss Granger. That would be most...illuminating.” He returned Lupin’s suspicious look with an innocent one, as he conjured two comfortable chairs, eschewing the space on the bench seat next to Blaise.

Sitting in one of the chairs and motioning for Lupin to sit next to him, Snape accepted a glass of Old Ogden's from Blaise and then lifted an eyebrow as he looked at the four former students before asking in his silkiest tone, “Well, who is going to tell me what the four of you are up to? And please Merlin, don’t let it be Potter...we don’t have all day for one of his rambling explanations.”

Blaise grinned as Harry glared. Pansy rolled her eyes and twitched the paper out of Blaise’s grasp to give it to their former head of house. He accepted it silently, although he glanced at Lupin after seeing what had held the students’ attention.

“Ah, I see what you mean. This Abby DeCourse is quite an interesting creature, isn’t she? Reminds me of the Weasley woman, what do you think, Lupin?”

Lupin scanned the column quickly, chuckling out loud in a few spots at the pithy advice, and nodding sagely at other points. He glanced up, his eyes glinting with amusement, when Snape nudged him, asking, impatiently, “Well, I didn’t tell you to memorize the dashed column. I asked if it reminded you of....”

“Of Molly, yes, Severus, I remember, don’t jostle me so. Really, where are your manners?” Remus asked mildly as he turned to Blaise and indicated his empty glass. Blaise grinned and poured him another glass. The werewolf’s capacity for drink was legendary. Remus turned his attention back to the paper. “Why don’t we see what everyone thinks? The first two responses are fairly commonsense but the writer lets her personality shine through more on the third answer I think. Let us all consider Miss DeCourse’s advice. Hmm, this should do it.”

After first casting a privacy ward around the table, Remus tapped the paper with his wand and with a softly murmured incantation, a small replica of Abby DeCourse rose up from the paper and looked over her half glasses at him, gray eyes twinkling. She shook a finger at him.

“Well, young man, that is a tricky bit of wizardry...but I was anticipating it! No trying to find out Abby’s secrets, now! You get advice, not a date to the movies! So no more trying to make my picture corporeal, young man!”

The students at the table looked shocked while Remus offered the tiny lady a shy smile and bow. Severus, on the other hand, was staring at her through narrowed eyes.

“I was just hoping you might read to my companions your excellent advice to your third inquirer, Miss DeCourse. That way all of them could hear it together.” Remus gave her his best puppy dog eyes.

The elderly witch smiled back at him sweetly. “And there is a reason why neither you nor that surly devil sitting next to you could read the letter and my answer out loud just as easily?” she asked, reasonably, Harry thought. Pansy choked as she tried holding back her laughter at the chagrined expression on Professor Lupin’s face.

“Ah, but there is nothing quite like hearing a work of fiction directly from the author’s own lips,” Severus retorted in his own rich voice, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms across his chest. The little witch stood at her full height of four inches and shook with indignation.

“Are you suggesting, sirrah, that my column, is composed of fictitious letters!” Her tones were outraged.

“Yes,” Severus told her plainly.

“Thought so,” the witch said, relapsing into amusement again, her eyes regaining their twinkle. “It is a good thing The Quibbler does not rely on the opinion of Severus Snape, then, isn’t it?”

Snape raised an eyebrow. The small witch turned back to Remus.

“I would be pleased to assist you, but alas, I believe your spell is ending. I bid you adieu. But, I offer some free advice before I go. Miss Parkinson, you really should go shopping for some new robes, those are so last year, my dear. Miss Granger, all work and no play makes for a dull witch! It wouldn’t hurt you to go indulge in a little retail therapy. Make Mr. Zabini go along to carry bags. Even better, take Mr.Potter along with you and insist he buy some robes that befit a savior of the wizarding world. His muggle wardrobe is finally respectable, see what you can do about his wizard one now! Professor Lupin, I leave Professor Snape to you. Perhaps a few drinks will improve his mood?”

With a *pop* the witch disappeared.

“Well, that was interesting,” Lupin commented, finishing his second glass of Ogden’s with a smile.

“What an odd creature! Did your spell really recreate the person from her picture? Rather like a portrait?” Pansy asked.

“Something like that,” Lupin agreed. “It is necessarily weak due to the number of times a newspaper is reproduced, but it takes the essence of the person that is imbued in the picture and formulates a three dimensional image of them.”

“What did she mean, she anticipated it?” Harry asked.

Remus smiled at him. “You caught that, did you? Abby DeCourse is a nom de plume, and the real person apparently anticipated that someone might try guessing who the writer was behind the column. Thus, she, or he, placed a certain amount of personality into the fake image of Abby that went with the pen name, and then warded it to protect their real image from leaking through.”

“So the real person giving advice isn’t a little gray haired lady?” Pansy asked, sounding disappointed.

“No, she may not be old at all, or even female,” Lupin told her.

“Well, all of that advice to buy clothes convinces me she’s female,” Blaise insisted comically.

“The nonsense she spouted only serves to convince me my initial thought was correct and she really must be a Gryffindor, and if not Molly Weasley, some other matriarch of that ilk. There is a certain smug coyness that cannot be duplicated by any other house.”

Remus looked at the other man with fond tolerance. “Are you suggesting that Minerva McGonnagall is in any way, shape or form coy?”

Snape flushed. “She is a feline and thus an exception to the rule,” he huffed.

“Well,” Blaise said, “Since Abby wouldn’t read the letter to us, and so far only the professors and I have had the chance to see it, unless one of you sirs will do the honors,” he looked at the two older wizards, both of whom shook their heads with varying degrees of politeness, Blaise continued unabashed, “I will be forced to read it and catch the rest of you up on this discussion.” He cleared his throat and began to read in his pleasant, lightly accented baritone:

“Dear Abby,
My girlfriend and I have drifted apart since the end of the war. We’re still young, just graduated Hogwarts last year, but everyone seems to expect us to settle down and start a family. I don’t feel ready for this and I know my girlfriend isn’t ready. She is more the career type than the homebody my mom is. We don’t have a lot in common, she likes books and I like sports, she likes opera and I like pop music. Actually, I don’t know what type of wife I want, to be honest, but I feel like I’m a cad if I say I want to date other people now and find out. If she were honest with herself, I bet she would admit she wants that too. We’ve been through so much together and since we’ve always been a pair to everyone, it just seems like we’re expected to stay a pair, even if that isn’t what we want. So, we fight all the time about little things instead of talking about the big things. What should we do?
Drifting into Disaster”

Pansy snorted. “That poor fellow isn’t drifting, he’s heading toward disaster with a forty mile an hour tail wind behind his broom.”

“More like a bludger heading straight for his head,” Harry agreed.

“Please, no Quidditch analogies,” Blaise begged. He glanced over at Hermione, who was unwontedly quiet. “Let’s see what our pithy Miss DeCourse has to say to our poor Drifting, shall we?”

Severus noticed both Hermione’s unusual quietness and Blaise’s concern for her, and filed both away for later consideration. “Do, Mr. Zabini. Then perhaps I can finally have the attention of my research team for more important things?”

“We can give you our attention right now, Professor Snape,” Hermione was quick to protest.

Snape waved his hand languidly. “Not at all, Miss Granger. Far be it from me to keep the wisdom of Miss DeCourse, whoever she may be, from all of your impressionable minds. Indeed, I agree that the writer is, at the very least, drifting toward disaster.

“So, what does she say?” Harry asked, glancing with concern at Hermione.

“Let me see, okay, here is her answer,” Blaise cleared his throat.

“Dear Drifting:
You most certainly are taking passivity to new heights...or depths! Marriage is not something to drift into like a bad habit, like wearing wrinkled robes because one is too lazy to learn a good grooming charm.” At this, Blaise frowned as though remembering something. He shook his head and then proceeded to read.

“You should call your friend this week. Suggest you start seeing other people. Trust me, she’ll be relieved. I wouldn’t be surprised if your letter makes quite a few drifting couples from schoolday romances take stock of the relationships and ask themselves, wouldn’t it be a good idea to stop, look around, and make sure?

Abby’s words of advice for this week– it isn’t love when you’re content to drift–it’s love when it makes you want to dive in, head first!”

“So true,” Blaise breathed, glancing again at Hermione who had her head down.

“Well, that explains all of the brain damage among the lovelorn,” Snape said tartly, looking at his former students and missing the warm look sent his way by his colleague.

“Severus, you’re hopeless,” Remus laughed, punching his arm lightly.

“No doubt,” the Potions Master said dryly. “But may we now proceed to my laboratory? I have the new results in, and it is imperative that we step up research efforts.”

Harry looked up quickly from the paper.

“Is there any progress, sir? On a cure, that is?”

Snape started to give a harsh answer, but something in Harry’s eyes made him pause. His voice was unusually gentle for him as he answered. “No, Mr. Potter, there is no progress if you mean are we closer to finding a cure. We make progress, yes, but for each step that we make, Draco’s condition makes steps also, and thus far his condition is making faster progress than we are. So there is worse than no progress. We are losing ground, I’m afraid.”

Pansy made a small noise and Blaise reached out, bringing both her and Hermione within the comforting span of his arms. Harry’s steady green gaze met Snape’s weary black eyes.

“Is there anything I can do, sir?”

For once Snape seemed to be considering the offer and not just thinking of a way to cut Harry down. Remus reached over and squeezed Harry’s hand encouragingly.

“When there comes a point where raw magical energy is needed, I...I shall call upon you to help, Mr. Potter,” Snape finally answered, reluctantly.

Hermione and Remus beamed and even Pansy and Blaise looked relieved. Severus’ refusal to even consider Harry’s help had been a sticking point with the team of researchers. Harry accepted the victory humbly.

“Thank you, sir.” He looked around the table. “Well, I guess lunch is over.”

They all nodded and began to get up. Blaise and Harry haggled good-naturedly over the bill and finally agreed to split it.

Before they left, Hermione pulled Harry aside.

“You don’t think...that letter...it couldn’t have been...do you think...”

“Spit it out, ‘Mione!” Harry laughed. “What are you trying to ask me?”

Hermione flushed then looked around to see if any of the others were near enough to overhear. She pulled Harry close and then whispered, “Do you think Ron was ‘Drifting into Disaster?’”

“Ron Drifting?” Harry yelped as Hermione pinched him hard on the arm to quiet him. “Sorry,” he whispered. “But seriously, ‘Mione, you can’t think Ron would write a letter like that, can you? If Ron wrote a letter to the paper, it would be more like, ‘Dear Abby, uh, my girlfriend is the smartest witch in a million years, but how smart can she be if she doesn’t even like Quidditch, and anyway, I can’t say who she is because I’m an auror and my best friend is someone who doesn’t like publicity because of having killed a dark wizard twice, only I always helped, but all of that is secret and anyway, the reason I’m writing....”

Hermione was laughing by the time Harry paused to catch his breath. “Oh come on, even Ron wouldn’t be that bad. But I see what you mean, he does tend to get a bit distracted in his letters. Which, for someone who is such a brilliant chess player, is not evidence of clear thinking, is it?”

“No, but it’s just another part of the Ron we know and love,” Harry told her, grinning. Then he sobered. “You know, that Abby lady was right though. Just because people expect you to stay together doesn’t mean you should. Ginny and I figured that out on our own.”

Hermione flushed again. “I know. It occurred to me as Blaise was reading it, which was what made me think it would be good if it were Ron, you know? Then we could have that kind of talk.”

Harry drew her close in a hug. “You still can, smartest witch in a million years! Nothing says it has to be Ron who brings it up, does it?”

Hermione shook her head slowly. “No, nothing does...it would just be easier that way.”

“Yeah, tell me someday what easier is like,” Harry rolled his eyes. “As I’m off for another trip.”

“Oh Harry,” she exclaimed. “Why do you do this to yourself!”

He cocked his head to the side. “Because I never learned how to drift, Hermione. Headfirst is the only way I know how to do it.”

 

***************************
 

Invisible, Draco sat in his invisible chair, afraid to breathe. Somehow, the wards on his front door had been breached. His new spell and potion was all that was protecting him at the moment from the crazy woman who had just entered his sanctuary.

“Little Draco! Come out, come out, wherever you are! Auntie Bella is here to play!”

A cackling laugh filled the apartment, reverberating through the rooms.

“It isn’t nice to hide from me, widdle Draco! You always did like to play hide and seek. But I know you’re in here. And we can play hide and seek all afternoon. Just like when you were a widdle boy. And when I find you...oh, when I find you...then we shall play the game that Auntie Bella chooses. You won’t like that game, Draco. But I will. I will like it very, very much.”

That laugh again. Draco was so afraid that he would scream just from hearing that laugh. But he couldn’t scream, it would give away his location. He could see her and as long as he was careful, he could move soundlessly away from her. If only he could summon help without alerting her.

Draco rolled toward the fireplace in the living room as his aunt crept toward the hallway that led to the bedrooms. Then the doorbell rang. Draco froze. He wasn’t expecting anyone today. Severus wasn’t supposed to come until tomorrow. Luna had promised to come back later in the week with more letters; dear Merlin, he prayed that she hadn’t changed her mind and decided to come back early for some reason.

He watched in horror as the door swung open. Bellatrix must have left it partially open when she broke the wards and entered earlier. He glanced toward the hallway where his aunt stood in battle readiness. Whoever came through that doorway would be killed instantly by his bloodthirsty aunt, but to shout a warning would give away his position unless he threw his voice.

No time to plan.

“Look out, Bella Black is inside!” he shouted, casting a spell to send his voice outside the apartment to whomever was on the other side of the front door.

Rather than staying safely out in the hallway, or going for help, as Draco felt any sensible person would do, this guest, one Harry James Potter, immediately blasted the door down and sent it sailing directly at Bellatrix. She laughed wildly, but rather than returning a hex at Harry, she turned and aimed one toward the fireplace. Not sure why she was firing in the direction but trusting his instincts, Harry blocked her spell with one of his strongest shields, then fired off another offensive spell that she barely avoided. Still laughing, the insane witch bowed and apparated away, blowing a kiss at him first.

Harry took a deep breath and turned to look around at the shambles of the once elegant room. As he did so, Severus Snape and Remus Lupin appeared via the floo. Once they did, Draco appeared, slumped in his wheelchair. He looked up at his godfather and smiled weakly.

“The spell was a qualified success, Severus. I owe some thanks to Potter here also. I believe we need to work on a means of summoning you faster, and letting you know if there is trouble here so you don’t walk in on it unaware. Oh, and strengthening the wards. I believe I need to rest now.”

With that, Draco collapsed. Remus catching him before he fell to the ground.

Harry was pale as he looked at the other men.

“I think we need to move him to somewhere else at once,” he told Severus. “Bellatrix’ signature is woven throughout the wards now. Bring him to Grimmaud and I can keep him safe.”

“No. I can keep him safe at Hogwarts,” Snape insisted. “Plus he’ll be closer to our research and...”

“And he’ll be unable to navigate the stairs to get out of the dungeons,” Remus pointed out reasonably, still holding Draco in his arms as though he weighed nothing. “Unless you can turn the stairs into ramps for him?”

“I can’t but Minerva can,” Snape snapped. He turned to Harry, who was looked mulish. “Come back to Hogwarts yourself then, to help keep him safe, Potter. The sooner he’s stabilized, the better. Or hunt Bella down and get her back into Azkaban. But don’t try getting Draco to live in the mausoleum you call a home. You saw what it did to your godfather. Draco loves light and space, he wouldn’t want to be immured in that dreary place.”

Harry looked at the slender blond in his friend’s arms then looked around the shattered mess of a room. “We’d better get going. I’ll meet you at Hogwarts after I contact the aurors. They’re going to want to investigate this.”

Severus frowned. “Let me get some things for Draco first.” He turned with a swirl of his robes and walked quickly into the bedroom. He quickly transfigured a bag and packed it with clothes and books. Then, moving to Draco’s desk, with a glance towards the other room, he rapidly went through the papers there. After a quick search, he found what he was seeking, and putting the papers into an envelope, stuffed them into the trunk with the rest of Draco’s belongings and sent them to drifting along behind him.

“Ready,” he announced, coming back to the main room.

“Good,” Remus said, clasping the sleeping Draco more closely to his chest. “Shall we go directly to your rooms or the hospital wing to have him checked out by Poppy?”

“I think Poppy is a good idea. Just to ensure that this has not been too damaging an incident for his condition,” Severus said worriedly.

“He’ll be okay, won’t he?” Harry asked.

“He didn’t take any hits, so he was lucky, but he is fragile, so even the stress can be damaging to his condition,” Severus replied.

“I’m going to kill Bellatrix,” Harry vowed.

“You’ll get no objection from me,” Severus replied dryly. “Just try not to get killed yourself in the attempt.” He stepped into the floo to follow Lupin and Draco to Hogwarts.

Harry raised an eyebrow. “Why Professor, I didn’t know you cared.”

“I don’t,” Severus told him. “But it might distress Draco. I’ll see you at Hogwarts, Potter.”

Harry was left to ponder that point. Would it bother Draco, he wondered as he bent down to floo the Ministry. It was a comforting thought, in a weird sort of way, he supposed. It was better than thinking of what could have happened if he hadn’t decided to stop by again. No, that didn’t bear thinking of at all.
 

Return to Ask Abby