Chapter Text
Draco was right up in Harry's face, as the silver magic spraying from his Mark reached for him. Binding the two of them even more inextricably together.
"No. You killed him,” said Draco. “I saw you kill him. He died – confused – outclassed – this is a side effect, something else – it has to be – something else – "
Harry didn’t seem to hear. He slid against the wall, pale unfocused eyes. Hermione abandoned her position to rush to his side – Ron half a step behind her – but Draco and the magic got there first.
Harry was taking deep, shaky breaths. Not getting enough air.
"I'm not ready to die. Not anymore. I don't – Teddy. I can't. I – I don't – "
Draco yanked him up by his shoulders. "Don’t you dare. Don’t you dare." He shook him. "You don't get to die. I don't care what it takes, I don't care what I have to do –"
A rumbling. An earthquake. Then the stone floor rippled, throwing Draco backwards and away from Harry. The whole room was shaking, blazing white with – some kind of new magic. The floor cracked, splintered. Then folded up into great stone teeth, forming a barrier wall around Harry.
Which disintegrated. The blinding white faded out of the room. Harry was standing there, looking shaken to his core.
"Everybody out," ordered Ron.
Bill practically shoved Draco and Narcissa away. Ron had an arm around Harry’s shoulders. Hermione plastered herself to his other side, to give Harry some kind of support. She didn’t know what else there was for her to do… apart from do her best to not panic. She could help Harry think this through. There must be a way to think this through.
"We'll figure this out." Ron promised. "Even if it is… what you think it is… we'll find another way. Promise. Just give us time. We've got Hermione, and Bill."
"No one's dying." Hermione agreed.
The three of them stayed there for a minute. Just breathing. A few times, Harry opened his mouth like he was about to say something – but in the end, all he did was start laughing. An upsettingly hollow sound, that seemed to echo.
"I told you so,” he said.
He had, but – "We don't know that you’re… still a horcrux."
"Yeah we do. I've been having dreams. I didn't tell you about them because… I thought they were just dreams. But I've been seeing Death Eaters. The ones in Azkaban. It feels like… it feels like the Voldemort dreams again."
Hermione bit her lip. That was bad.
"I'm going outside." Harry brushed himself off. Picked his wand up off the floor. Looking calm in a way Hermione hadn't seen since the final battle. It was awful.
She followed silently as he made his way outside. Expressionless and grim. Every door Harry approached opened for him, without him having to do anything.
Harry was on the Malfoy lawn, in the middle of a circle of white flowers. Those flowers had started growing the moment he’d sat down, and the longer he remained the further they'd spread. Since there was no way to get to Harry without trampling them… in a way they were as much a barrier as the stone.
Hermione looked over to Ron, who shrugged.
"Just checking," said Bill, coming up behind them. "There's no way that Harry's raw magic is normally that powerful, correct?" He was staring at the flowers.
Hermione shook her head.
“There is something strange going on here.” For the first time he sounded frustrated. “This is why no one uses fealty magic anymore, for anything except wand-wizard bonds. There are too many factors at play.”
“What do you mean?” asked Hermione, faintly.
“I mean that I don’t know how to isolate the problem. It could be Horcruxes, like Harry seems to think. It makes sense that he’d be preparing himself mentally for the worst. But it might have something to do with the fact that he’s using Voldemort’s old wand, or Draco’s old wand. The house might know he kept the Malfoys out of Azkaban. Or that he defeated Voldemort in single combat. For all I know, there are medieval protocols put in place for the Master of the Elder Wand specifically. Maybe the house would have reacted like this to Dumbledore, if he’d ever visited."
"We're not gonna let him rush into anything,” said Ron. “Even if he were for sure a horcrux."
"I think you should call in Garrick Ollivander," said Bill. "He knows more about fealty magic and wandlore than anyone alive."
Hermione winced. Ron did too.
"Yeah... that's uh... Anybody else we could try first?"
Secretly, Hermione agreed. She wasn’t looking forward to asking Ollivander to help fix the same wards that had kept him imprisoned for over a year.
"What I do know,” said Bill. “Is that Voldemort pretty much has to be using eleventh or twelfth century fealty magic, if the Dark Marks are triggering the Malfoy wards this strongly. And no one – no one does that, it’s too unpredictable. I guess you could ask a ghost."
"Hate to bring Ollivander back here,” said Ron. “Seems mean."
"He'll do it for Harry,” said Hermione, quietly.
Ron sighed. "Worth a try."
Hermione realized that, at some point, she’d lost track of the Malfoys. Draco and his mother had drifted away from the group and were standing together, a tight pair. Stealing glances over at Harry, who was still sitting alone in the grass, looking up at the clouds.
Then Draco glanced over at her. Whispered something to Narcissa, and then left her side to approach them. Hermione let Draco gather her into his arms. Support a lot of her weight.
"He says the dreams are coming back," she said. "When Voldemort was alive, Harry used to... he saw things."
"Hm," said Draco. "He shouldn't be alone tonight, I don’t think. Aunt Andromeda doesn't know about this, and I doubt he wants to tell her. Ron Weasley has a volatile spell-crafter to look after..."
"Harry should stay here," said Hermione. Quite sure of that, at least.
"Yes. Do you want to inform him of this, or shall I?"
"I'll do it."
Draco bent down to kiss her hair. Then reluctantly, Hermione steeled herself. Walked over to the edge of Harry’s circle of flowers.
"Sorry I ruined your wedding,” mumbled Harry. So low she barely heard him.
"What?" It took Hermione a minute to even process what he'd said. "Harry, no. You haven't ruined anything. Draco wanted me to ask you to stay the night. We're worried about you."
"Yeah that's... probably a good idea." Harry's voice was tight. He was plucking at the grass. "Not sure I should be around Teddy until we know what's going on."
Hermione hadn't even thought of that either.
"Are you ready to come inside yet?"
"Think I'll stay out here."
"Do you want me or Ron to stay here too?"
Harry just shrugged.
And Hermione didn't know what else to say. "I'll...I'll let Draco and Narcissa know you're staying." Then she retreated.
The day had become cloudy and overcast. Ron and Bill were still deep in hushed conversation. She must have lost time because at some point Draco had vanished, and now he was back. Approaching with a small cloud of cups and bottles trailing behind him, clinking.
He seemed to be making extra noise as he got close to Harry, so as not to startle him. Then he directed the different cups to land at his side.
“Calming draught. Hot chocolate. Firewhiskey. And that is Malfoy Reserve, Potter. So sip it.”
Harry downed the calming draught in one go, but waved off the firewhiskey, gravitating instead to the chocolate. "You did me a favor, really." The faux cheer in his voice soundedhorrible. "Better to find out now than later. Less damage I can do, if I know."
"The nice thing about you being, well, you…” said Draco. “Is that I don't think there's a single wizard in Britain who wouldn't drop everything to come to your aid. You probably have a fairly decent international reputation as well. I have zero doubt that if you want Ollivander, you'll get Ollivander."
Harry wasn’t listening to a word he said.
Draco looked over at Hermione, who gave him a sad smile, and shrugged. He sighed, and started to come over –
Hermione jumped slightly, as Bill Weasley put a hand on her shoulder.
"I'm going to go see Ollivander,” he said. “He spent a few months recuperating in my house, I know him and I trust him. Are you all right here?"
Hermione nodded.
"You’re going to see Ollivander?" said Draco. "I mean - I knew him too, obviously I was his jailer, but – "
"If you think he would appreciate the gesture," said Bill. "But… he does know, Draco. He knows you were smuggling down extra food and healing potions. He kept that copy of Travels with Trolls you folded into the blankets. It made him and Luna laugh."
This was the first Hermione was hearing of any of this, and it made her feel warm. She grabbed Draco to her, and pulled him into a half-hug. "Let Bill handle Olivander. I need you here."
Draco completed the hug. "If you insist."
"I hope we can get this all sorted before the wedding," said Bill. "Now if you'll excuse me. Hermione, Draco." He was going, and gone.
Meanwhile, Harry had finished the hot chocolate and flopped backwards on the grass, arms spread out and teacup discarded.
“I don’t know where to put him, is the thing,” said Draco. “Very few bedrooms are usable… and even if the house grew a tower for Potter, which it very well might at this point… I wouldn’t want to leave him in it alone.”
"I can hear you, you know,” said Harry.
"You were meant to hear," said Draco. "The only way to deal with a Gryffindor is to be sickeningly honest about everything."
Harry was quiet for a second, thinking. "Yeah, okay. I'll buy that."
"You know," said Draco. "Since you are here. I've got a crate full of practice snitches, and I'm a better flier now than I was in fifth year. And since I'm sure you're rusty, it probably evens out."
Hermione rolled her eyes. “Draco! Harry’s just had a shock, he doesn’t want to –”
Harry promptly scrambled to his feet. "Amazing. Count me in. Gives me an excuse to stop back at Grimmauld place, grab my broom and tell Andromeda where I am."
"There are some mock-ruins out by the east bank of the lake. Makes for a fantastic flying obstacle," said Draco. “I’d walk you to the gate, but… I’m sure the wards would let you apparate out of here, if you wanted to. They’ll certainly open the – ”
"Right! Meet you there!" Harry was already half way to the gate. Hermione shook her head. Trust quidditch to cheer Harry up about anything.
Draco glanced over at her. "I won't be accused of neglecting my fiancee. I can bring the books up out of the crypt for you. There might be something in there about the wards, or the types of fealty spells used… but just to warn you, those parts might be in Latin. So I hope you know some good translation charms."
"Of course I do!" She was offended he thought she wouldn't.
"I'll just set you up in the Unicorn sitting room, shall I?"
"That sounds fantastic." She stole a quick kiss.
"I'll uh... just be going then, yeah?" Ron asked. "Right, uh... have fun. I guess."
"I'm sorry Weasley," said Draco, turning. "Please do stay for dinner. Play quidditch with us, or help my mother write passive-aggressive notes to everyone who turned down the wedding invitation."
"Nah, it's all good. I'd love to stay, but George and I promised Mum we'd have dinner at the Burrow tonight."
Hermione doubted he was telling the entire truth. More likely, Ron didn’t want to leave George alone for long periods of time for much the same reason she didn’t want to leave Harry alone.
“Of course,” said Draco, putting out his hand. “I think we’re at a handshake?”
Ron took him up on that handshake, and laughed. "A Malfoy and a Weasley shaking hands. Figure we've both got ancestors rolling in their graves."
“Yes, well. Let them.”
Draco and Harry stayed out until it would have been too dark to see a quaffle, let alone a snitch, and came through the main door arguing loudly about a particular capture they had apparently made at exactly the same time. It didn't really make much of a difference as far as Hermione could tell. Harry still had seven catches to Draco's three.
The moment he walked though to their rooms, Draco made a beeline for the bathroom to change out of his sweaty clothes, and by the time he had gotten out, dinner had been sent up via the room’s dumbwaiter. Presumably this was Narcissa's doing. Someone had certainly gone very Hogwarts with the food selection - lots of meat, potatoes, plates of vegetables, shepherd's pie. Comfort food. They still hadn't exactly figured out where they were putting Harry for the night… but she supposed they could brainstorm over dinner.
At least for the moment, Harry looked all right. He was sitting on the floor, cheering on Crookshanks as he attempted to catch a snitch, and stopped when he saw the food. He snagged the snitch out of the air himself, leaving her poor half-kneazle looking very affronted about his stolen prey.
It didn't really fit all on one table, so Draco levitated two smaller ones and a third chair over in front of the fire.
"So, Hermione," he said. "Anything interesting in your reading?"
"I haven't found anything useful, but the history of your dungeons is fascinating." Hermione enthused for several minutes about the construction, the warding, and original purpose of the dungeons. She could tell Harry was tuning her out, entirely focused on the food. But that often happened when she tried to share interesting things she'd read. If it wasn't directly relevant, Harry generally wouldn't pay attention.
"...and that's why they had to house Sir Nicholas here while he was awaiting execution,” she said.
But it was all right, because Draco asked intelligent follow up questions, and she watched the stress drip out of Harry, from some combination of the fire, the food, and the sound of her voice. But that didn’t mean that he wouldn’t try to sneak out the moment she took her eyes off of him, do something well-intentioned but reckless. She really hoped that she’d be able to propose some sleeping arrangement that let her keep an eye on him… without offending him in the process.
In the end, it was Draco who asked the question before she could work out how exactly to do that.
"I'm sure you've noticed that unfortunately the only habitable parts of the house are my parents' suite, my suite, and the Unicorn sitting room."
"Oh, er... I can take the couch. That's fine."
"This one, not the one in the sitting room," Hermione insisted.
But Draco looked at the two of them like they'd just suggested sleeping in the fire.
"Absolutely not.”
Both Hermione and Harry both startled a little, at the sheer vehemence of Draco's disapproval.
“My mother would never forgive me,” he said. “The house would never forgive me, not when it's growing actual flowers in the spots where your feet touch the ground."
Harry tried again. "Wouldn't be the first time I've slept on a couch."
"I have heard about the horrible – tent – situation. None of it bears repeating."
"The tent was nice! I liked that tent. Sure, it got a little cramped after a while, but it wasn't bad. Not like anyone was locking you in or anything. Could always step out, stretch your legs."
"Did you spend time in prison, Potter?"
"Closet, actually," Harry snarked, cheerfully. He seemed to genuinely think he was being a little funny, but Hermione didn't think she'd ever be able to see any humor in how Harry's aunt and uncle had treated him.
Neither did Draco, apparently. Because his whole demeanor got very serious and very quiet. Maybe even a little cold.
"As long as you are under my roof, I will have to insist on your comfort. After all. That is what being lord of the Manor means. It certainly does not mean putting my comfort above yours. And especially not when you say horrifying things about – being locked in closets – " He shivered.
"I'm sure Hermione has a bedroll in her bag." Harry was still trying to argue.
"No Potter, I'm afraid you must have the bed. Hermione can share with you, and I will take the couch."
Harry laughed. "The rumor is that we're all sleeping together."
"... the press did have a field day with those photographs of me in your jumper."
They really had done. But try as she might, Hermione couldn’t work up enough energy to be offended. Besides, it was nice to see Harry laugh after the day they'd had.
"I think Malfoy pretty much has to keep it now. They'd have another field day if I took it back and wore it again."
"We'll save it, in case you ever need a scandal to distract from a different scandal. Or you know, an unpopular vote of some kind." Then Draco shifted in his seat, and performatively yawned. "Why don't you get ready for bed first, Potter?"
"Hmmm?" Harry made a confused noise around a mouthful of potatoes. Then seemed to catch up. "Oh, right. I guess I’m still gross from flying earlier. Feels like it shouldn't be possible to get that dirty from just air. And bugs. It's not real Quidditch if you don't hit at least one bug."
"Take all the time you need," said Draco, not interacting with the observation about the bugs. Picking at the last of his shepherd's pie instead, and then getting up to poke the fire, resettling the logs. The golden firelight suited him.
Harry finished cleaning his plate, and picked up the clothes he'd left on the couch when he brought his broom over. Then disappeared into the bathroom.
The second the door closed, Draco turned towards Hermione.
"All right," he whispered urgently. "I don't know how much time we have because I don't know how much time Potter spends grooming. But the main point is – I know at the moment he seems level – but there is at least a chance that he will run off in the middle of the night and do something stupid?"
"It's almost certain. He’s… done it before.”
Draco rubbed a hand across his face.
Hermione cast a nonverbal muffliato before elaborating. "I hate to say it, but I'd... I’d put money on him trying to gain access to the Department of Mysteries somehow. If he’s convinced he's a horcrux and a danger to all of us… I'm afraid that might be enough to make him walk through the Veil."
"Oh Merlin. I'd suggest we'd lock the doors – except I doubt the house will let me. Not to mention that apparently someone else has already done that to him. I'm not stupid enough, or enough of a monster to remind him of that now."
"He’d find a way out. Even if the house wasn’t doing… whatever it’s doing, and we actually could lock him in. The best we could do is slow him down. What we have to do is make sure that he doesn’t have enough time to stew and get all convinced he's making the right choice by sacrificing himself. Which means… we will probably have to stay with him. It's honestly for the best that you didn't let him take the couch."
Draco found her hand and squeezed it. "In an ideal situation, I would be taking better care of you tonight."
She shook her head. "No, it's fine. Honestly, I'm used to this." Because in the end, Harry had to come first. She didn't resent him for it. She never had, not for one moment. After all, who would ever want to change places with him?
Draco gently cupped the back of her neck. Rubbed a little circle with his thumb.
Hermione closed her eyes. Then continued in a whisper – "I know. None of us should be used to any of this. You don't have to say it."
"You will have more help this time.” He kissed her lightly. "Do you believe me?"
She smiled softly, and watched him pull back. Took his hand, and squeezed it. "I'm okay." She paused, thought over the day and sighed. "I'm not entirely okay."
"I wouldn't believe you if you said you were." A pause. "I would pretend to believe you," Draco pulled her closer. "My resources are limited, at the moment. But if you can think of anything I can do..."
"You're helping enough already. Even just… not accepting that this should be up to Harry to fix... "
"Yes, well. The idea that the fate of the Wizarding World was so completely resting in Potter's hands is concerning."
Hermione laughed. "You don't even know him as well as I do. Sometimes I think we were one quidditch injury away from losing the war."
Draco leaned back into the arm of the couch, looking truly haunted by the possibilities.
"We're lucky Lockhart just liquified the bones in his arm. Who knows what could have happened if he'd gotten that wrong in a different way."
"Oh Merlin, I'd forgotten about that." Draco’s eyes went to the ceiling.
Hermione's laugh now sounded a little hysterical. "He tried to obliviate them, you know. Ron and Harry."
"I'm sorry, what?"
"It's why Lockhart's in St. Mungos. He used Ron's broken wand and the spell backfired."
"Merlin..." Draco looked shaken. "Do you ever just want to – wrap Potter in cotton floss and carefully put him in a display cabinet?"
"All the time."
"Potter!" Draco raised his voice. "You haven't tied the bed curtains together and escaped out the window have you?"
Harry opened the door, dressed in pajamas but still toweling off his hair. "Don't have to shout. I'm right here."
"Enjoying the bath?"
"Yeah. Never got to enjoy one of those big prefect baths without Myrtle trying to take a peek."
"Oh she wasn't all bad," said Draco, flippantly. And then, as though to distract from that comment, he stood up. "I won't take long." Vanished into the bathroom the moment that Harry stepped out.
Harry sprawled out on the couch. "So, have fun gossiping about me?"
"I wasn't –" Hermione started. But the look on Harry's face told her she'd better fess up. "Okay fine. We were talking about you, but we weren't gossiping."
"Course not."
A soft meow had Harry looking under the couch for Crookshanks. "You're still mad I caught your snitch, aren't you? Hermione, I think your cat's learning bad habits from Draco. He's holding grudges against me."
"Draco doesn't have a grudge against you."
"You say that now. You should have heard some of the names he called me when we were out flying."
Crookshanks made another, slightly louder, noise. Which got Harry's attention. "Trust me,” he said. “You don't actually want to eat a snitch."
"Actually, it is about time for me to feed him." Hermione found her bag, and the plastic container of cat food therein. Harry laughed at her and began guessing at other things she might be carrying around with her.
"How about… a bookcase?"
"Yes, of course. You know that already."
"An armchair?"
"Why would I have an armchair in my bag?"
"I dunno. You have catfood."
"I have a cat!"
"You also have arms."
Hermione laughed, and shook her head.
"You ever going to take your things out of that bag, now that you're moved in with Malfoy? Or is the living out of a bag just… a permanent thing? No judgement, either way."
Hermione didn't especially want to answer that. It felt like Harry had caught her doing something she shouldn't. But she couldn't deny that it was a fair question.
"I don't know. It's hard to shake the feeling I might have to run at a moment's notice." She looked around the beautiful room, enchanted so only a very short list of people would be able to apparate in and out. "Sometimes I think I might. At some point."
"And Malfoy – I mean, Draco. He understands, right? He doesn't worry that means you're not serious?"
"He had Voldemort living in his house, Harry! Of course he understands being a little messed up after the war."
"All right, okay!" Harry held up his hands in surrender. "Just wanted to make sure."
Hermione sighed. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you. We've both had a long day."
"Yeah... not all bad though. I still trounced Draco out there on a broom." Harry's giant grin couldn't be anything other than sincere. Hermione started to roll her eyes… but only ended up laughing again.
"I object to the word 'trounced,'" said Draco, sticking his head out of the bathroom.
"What would you call it then? Clobbered? Destroyed? Put you off quidditch forever out of shame?"
"I'd say you fly just like you did in school, while I've gotten better."
Hermione snuck into the bathroom herself, while this conversation was going on. It made her smile to hear them hurling thinly veiled insults about old sports-related grudges. They both should have had more of that, and less worrying about Dark Lords.
And then it was very late, and time for them all to go to bed.
"You go there, Potter," Draco said, imperiously, pointing at the bed. Just came right out and said it.
Harry looked at Hermione, expecting her to protest. When she didn't, he turned back to Draco. "I knew you two were talking about me. I promise not to sneak out. This may surprise you but I don't want to die. And I'm not going to wake up in the middle of the night and suddenly change my mind."
"Harry..." Hermione started, but that was the wrong move.
"No," Harry's attention was back on her now. "What if you wake up in the morning and kiss me because you thought I was Draco and you forgot I was staying over? No. I'm not doing it. You'll have to trust me this much at least."
Hermione could feel herself blushing. As much as she hated to admit it, Harry might… have a point. She'd gotten very used to cuddling with Draco even in the relatively short amount of time they'd been sharing a bed.
"Do you want me to go in the middle?" said Draco, annoyed. "I don't think I'm very likely to kiss you by accident."
"I bloody hope not! If you mistake me for Hermione I'm never letting you live that down."
"I wouldn't think there's much risk of that. For one thing, she has much better hair than you do. And have you ever considered glasses that are literally any other shape?"
"What's wrong with my glasses?"
"You've been wearing them since you were eleven, I think you're due for a change."
"They still work just fine. I mean, it's a little harder to see but I figure that's just age."
"Oh no." Hermione's horror at her dawning realization made its way into her voice. "Harry. When was the last time you got a new prescription?"
"Why would I – ?"
Hermione fought the urge to go find the Dursleys and hex them into jelly.
"Harry. Give me your glasses."
He looked confused, but handed them over. She pointed her wand at his temple. "Look at the far wall for me please."
"I can't see the far wall."
"I know. Just do it."
"Fine..."
Hermione whispered the first half of the spell she needed, and then tapped his glasses and whispered the second half. "Here," she handed his glasses back to him. "Try these on."
He slipped them back onto his face and his jaw dropped. "Woah!"
One look at the expression on his face made Hermione get up, and walk to the other side of the room. She needed to move to keep herself from getting so angry at Harry's relatives that she screamed.
"Oh... fuck you, Potter," said Draco. "You were catching snitches like that with a handicap that large?" He sat heavily down on the bed. "You still need better frames." Undeniably pouting.
"Hmm?" Harry wasn't even disguising the fact he hadn't been listening.
"Come on, bed." Hermione was wearing her old pajamas instead of the pink nightdress."I know that look, but flying can wait until tomorrow. We're all exhausted."
"It's too dark now anyway," said Draco. "You can fly even faster and make your dives even more terrifying tomorrow, when you can actually see."
"I can see now!"
"Harry no."
Harry laughed. "Alright. I'll wait. But only because you sound so miserable."
Draco went on a circuit of the room, very pointedly dimming the lights.
Hermione awoke to the faint, silver light of lumos coming from just outside her field of vision. She turned over, in bed, reaching for Draco's warm body. Only to find Harry, sitting up. That woke her up a little more. A clinking, and then a pouring. She smelled hot chocolate.
She got up on an elbow to see Harry sitting against the headboard - white, and clammy, and shaken. Draco was hovering next to the bed like a ghost, although ghosts weren’t usually holding entire gigantic chocolate pots.
"Didn't mean to wake you," he said quietly, when he saw her stir.
"Nightmare,” mumbled Harry.
That just had Hermione waking up more. Rubbing sleep from her eyes as she sat up as well.
"The war?" she said. Trusting Harry wouldn't talk about it if he didn't want to.
Harry shook his head, mouth pressed into a thin line. "Not this time. It's... It's the dreams I told you about."
“Azkaban," said Draco. "Rowle. The Carrows. Barty Crouch jr. All of that lot." He shoved a cup of hot chocolate into Harry’s hands. "Drink more of that. There's plenty."
Harry shivered, and did as he was asked.
"Oh Harry." Hermione didn't know if he'd be okay with a hug or not.
Harry shrugged. "It's not going to make you feel better if I say I'm used to it, is it?"
"No. Not really."
Crookshanks clearly had his own ideas about whether or not Harry needed to be cuddled, and hopped up on the bed to sit in his lap.
"Oh... um. Hello? If you're here for the hot cocoa, I'm afraid you're out of luck."
Crookshanks responded by making biscuits in the covers.
Hermione covered her mouth with her hand to suppress a giggle. Crookshanks and Harry were both being very sweet and it would be rude to laugh at them. It made it harder not to laugh, when Draco grinned at her like that. Then took back the teacup, to put it with the rest of the china on the sideboard.
“Sorry to wake you up,” said Harry.
Draco froze. Then looked over his shoulder. "You are never to apologize to me again, ever, for the rest of your life. Is that clear?" he said to Harry. "I owe you a life-debt. You got Voldemort out of my house. You kept my father out of Azkaban. You're the reason I still have a wand. And don't be modest, I know exactly who was filibustering the Wizengamot that day."
Harry shrugged. "Couldn't save Snape. Didn't know I should try until it was too late. After I found out about his Unbreakable Vow, keeping your dad out of Azkaban seemed like.... I don't know. It was the only real way I could think of to tell him thanks." He said it like he was trying to downplay what he'd done. "I know you were important to him, and it didn't feel right splitting up your family. And also, you know. Your mum lied to Voldemort for me. It's... it would have been wrong."
"Yes, well. Mother and I bought you time, that's all. And Severus… he knew what he was doing. I don't think he even wanted to be saved, in the end. My parents spent long enough trying to save him, that's for certain." He passed Harry another cup of hot chocolate. "You are insane, if you thought that saving him was up to you."
"Saving most people was up to me." Harry said it like there wasn't even anything wrong with that. Hermione had to blink, and look away.
That was why they were currently watching him, after all. The fear he might take it upon himself to save them all, again, at the cost of himself. It had seemed so noble before… but the more time passed the more she realized how unfair it was. To him. To all of them.
Draco's face hardened, and turned a little sour. His eyes followed Harry's hands, as he took a sip of chocolate. Umbridge's scar still across the back, white in the light from Draco's wand. I must not tell lies.
"You know. When I finally got a good look at that scar... I spent the whole year thinking that everyone had been exaggerating the stories about Umbridge. She was always nice to me. But - magic that scars like that is always dark. Always. And you use it in life-or-death situations, not for detention." He shivered. "I'm sorry, Potter. It's not very politic of me to bring her up. I just wanted you to know that once I saw that writing on your hand, I knew I'd been wrong about her. Which got me to start wondering what else I had been wrong about."
Harry looked down at the back of his hand. Smiled. "Guess it was good for something then."
Draco shrugged. "It bloody hurts, realizing you got it all wrong. I hated it."
Harry grinned at that too, but had the decency to try and hide it by taking a sip. Hermione snuggled into the pillows, and wondered idly what time it was. And if Draco had moved the sofa in an attempt to barricade the door.
Draco passed her a cup as well. "I do think he's out of immediate danger,” he said.
"Don't talk about me like I'm not here," snapped Harry.
Draco bit his lip. "You're right. That was in poor taste. It won't happen again."
Hermione laughed. When they both looked at her for an explanation, she said - "It's so strange to see you agreeing on things. After all the years Harry spent convinced you were up to all sorts of no good."
Draco glanced over at Harry. "Years?"
"Years." She confirmed.
Harry hesitated a second, a little unsure of things, then moved Crookshanks off his lap so he could lay down. Crookshanks wasted no time in claiming a spot under Harry's chin, making Harry look a bit like he had sprouted a great big ginger beard.
"I can put lights on, dim," said Draco. "Or will that bother you?"
"If you need to, you can. The dark doesn't bother me."
Hermione wasn't sure if that was entirely true. She thought it might be a little different if it weren't for the bit of moonlight from outside that got in through the curtains. But it wasn't more than a suspicion. And the moonlight made the thought irrelevant anyway.
Draco frowned a little, but then said "nox," and the world went dark. “Go to sleep, Potter,” he ordered.
Harry muttered something that sounded a whole lot like “wanker.”