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The Heart of the Matter	By : Jad Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 7323 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 21
- 22
- 23
Chapter Twenty-Two

'I knew that cleavage was a smoke screen; you're a genius!'

- House, MD

: : :

The Muggle, as it turned out, was named Hugh. He seemed to have decided that Draco and Potter were his new best pals and that he must at once take them for drinks.

'Er, that's very nice of you,' Draco lied horribly, leaning away from his odour as the man drew nearer, 'but I don't drink.'

Potter suffered from a very indiscreet cough which contained a word that sounded very much like 'bullshit' and Draco glared at him over his shoulder.

'Nonsense!' Hugh declared in a determined sort of voice. 'Every lad's fit for a drink this time o' day!'

'It's noon,' Potter pointed out.

'Noon! Already!' Hugh looked at the sky, looking briefly surprised, then frowned. 'Blast! Well, we're off to a late start but we'll have an extra round of cider.'

'Excuse me,' Draco attempted as the man took it upon himself to shove them both forward by the shoulderblades. 'D'you mind telling us where we are?'

Hugh eyed Draco in what might have been suspicion. It may have just been plain bewilderment, but it was hard to tell when his eyes were so bloodshot. 'Don't drink my arse! Yeh sloshed already, m'boy? Well, never too early, s'what I say...'

The important question unanswered, the boys soon found themselves led up a street which was much more populated, with other Muggles wandering too and fro. It was cobbled as well, and small, bordered on both sides by short stone buildings and several people waved in greeting as Hugh and the boys passed. He steered them towards a particular pub called the Black Bull, a two-story building with large, paned windows and a single chimney coming out of the middle of the roof.

Draco was searching en-route for a chance to escape, but Potter went along easily enough. Draco gave him a this-is-not-the-time-nor-place look which Potter simply rolled his eyes at and ignored, and followed Hugh inside the pub.

Looking up at the sky, Draco prayed to Merlin that he'd live to lose his virginity, and followed the prat inside.

'I'm hoping,' Draco said, as he pulled up a chair at the bar beside Potter, 'that you have a plan that doesn't involve anyone dying.'

'Working on it,' Potter said, quietly, as Hugh ordered them a round. 'But I don't think we should Apparate again.'

'No,' Draco agreed. 'Not unless we're inches from the scaly grasp of Death, anyway.'

After about five minutes of unproductive silence Draco got impatient. 'So, we just... sit around, having drinks while we wait for someone to find us? And hope it's the good guys first?'

'I'll think of something,' Potter assured. 'Hard to think with you yapping, though.'

'Sorry,' Draco said unapologetically. 'I'll keep my brilliant observations to myself, then.'

'You do that,' Potter agreed, and fell silent, which was not something Draco was used to. Not Potter being quiet, but quiet in general—someone was always talking, and it was usually him, but Potter didn't seem much in the mood for listening which would put Draco out for all of his genius would be ignored.

Hugh passed them their drinks and quickly forgot about them after two mugs of cider, and wandered off to play cards at the other end of the pub. Draco managed to catch the bartender as he ambled past, and inquired as to which city they had stumbled into.

The bartender gave him an odd look, and Draco supposed it was a bit of a stupid question, but was pleased when the man answered, 'Haworth, m'boy.'

As the bartender wandered off shaking his head, Draco turned to Potter and said, 'So you were trying to Apparate to Hogsmeade?'

Potter, who had been silent for a long while and not even touched his cider, started. 'Er. Yeah. Why?'

'I was trying to get back to London,' Draco said, swiping Potter's untouched glass. 'We ended up in the middle of York. I'd say that's about halfway, wouldn't you?'

Potter blinked. 'I didn't know it could work like that.'

'Neither did I,' Draco said truthfully. 'Better than ending up in two pieces though, I suppose.' He sighed and took a generous mouthful of his drink. Tiny, backwoods Muggle town that it was, Haworth knew how to make a decent batch of cider at least. 'Any brilliant ideas yet?'

Potter sat back in his chair, sighing. 'No. You?'

'Have another drink?' Draco offered.

'Oh, right, get drunk. That'll get us to Hogwarts in record time.'

'Just imagine how much fun the Feast'd be if we were pissed.'

'I remember last time we were pissed,' Potter said abruptly, then stopped.

Draco hastily put down his cider.

'All right,' he said, going for a change of subject. 'The Order's probably having a kinipshit at the moment, thinking you're dead or at least captured and probably tortured, but still likely running around the country in search. Wouldn't be surprised if they got the Ministry involved at this point...'

'Lovely,' Potter groaned.

'...meanwhile no one'd mind if I ended up dead in a gutter,' Draco added, perhaps a little too dramatically.

Potter smirked. 'Oh, don't be silly, Malfoy,' he said, 'I'd care.'

'Prat.'

Potter opened his mouth to reply, but before he could, a cloaked figure slipped down beside Draco apparently with intent to provoke a seizure by whispering in his ear. 'Boo.'

Draco started, nearly throwing his chair into Potter. Jack snickered.

'The way you two leave a trail behind you, it's a wonder you're still sound,' he said, stealing Draco's mug and draining the rest of it. 'Let's go, shall we? Dumbledore's going to murder one of the Lestrange brothers if he doesn't get word soon that you're both unharmed.'

'The Lestranges?' Potter said, jogging to catch up as Jack led them out the back of the pub and into a small wooded patch of land. The sun was still filtering down through the trees, casting dappled shadows on them as Jack pushed on, leading them into the thickets. 'You mean—'

'Two of the Death Eaters the Ministry rounded up from the attack,' Jack confirmed. 'Rodolphus and Rabastan were both there. Dumbledore was interrogating them when I set off to find you two.'

'He only sent you?' Potter asked, looking surprised.

'He only needed to send me,' Jack said, smirking. 'Why d'you think he keeps me around? You have any idea how hard it is to find a good Tracker?'

'Tracking?' Draco said, genuinely surprised. 'Why're you working for the Order, they don't even pay. The Ministry—'

'—kicked me out of the Academy after two months,' Jack admitted, and looking very proud of himself.

Potter wasn't listening; after looking at their surroundings, he demanded, 'Where are we going?'

'As far as we can get on foot away from that red carpet of spellwork the two of you left behind,' Jack answered. 'The Dark Lord has his own bloodhounds, and they're not to be underestimated.'

'Who?' Draco asked. 'I wasn't aware of any Trackers—'

'What the hell is a Tracker?' Potter interrupted, looking indignant, as if it were Draco's fault he was ignorant.

'How do you think he found us this morning?' Jack asked. 'And remember that time with your cousin, and the unexplainable Dementors? Trackers do just what the name implies: they track—magic.'

'And why I've never heard the term before...'

'How many purebloods do you know, Potter?' Draco asked, then added with a sneer, 'besides Weasleys?'

'You?' he spat, then demanded, 'What's that got to do with it?' and nearly tripping over a tree root in the process

'Only Purebloods can be Trackers,' Draco and Jack answered simultaneously.

Potter snorted. 'Right.'

'No, really,' Jack insisted, seriously. 'Which sucks for you lot, really, since Tracking isn't easy to master, even for Purebloods, and their side has a lot more to choose from.'

'Why can only Purebloods—'

'Nobody really knows,' Jack said, shrugging. 'But half-bloods and Muggleborns have never been able to Sense like Purebloods can.' Potter looked unimpressed, Jack didn't seem to care. 'You can roll your eyes all you like, Potter. Doesn't change the facts.'

Before Potter could retort, Jack raised his arm to the sky and down through the canopy shot a tiny bird, hardly bigger than Pigwidgeon, and landed on his forearm. It wasn't an owl, but in fact looked like a very tiny hawk.

Jack whispered something too it, and with an ear-piercing screech, the bird took off again and rocketed into the sky.

'He'll let Dumbledore know you're both all right,' he said, watching the bird vanish in record time. 'For the moment, anyway,' he added.

'Isn't it dangerous to send messages via Owl?' Potter asked.

'He's not an owl,' Jack told him, giving him a look as if Potter were very stupid and as if he were very speaking slowly for his benefit. 'Anyway, he's not holding any message they can read, and even if they could catch him they won't get anything out of him. Here, I brought this,' he tossed Potter the Invisibility Cloak. 'Keep it on.'

Potter moved towards Draco, but Jack waved him off. 'Not him, just you, for now. We need to move fast and you're the one they're more likely to kill on sight.'

'More likely?' Draco asked, annoyed. 'Well, that makes me feel better.'

'It should,' Jack said, throwing him a look. 'You know your Daddy will do everything in his power to keep you alive.'

'Or that if I'm killed, he's the one to do it,' Draco said, deadpan.

'Well. if we run into him,' Potter said from somewhere to his right, 'you can borrow the cloak.'

: : :

Dumbledore met them in the woods. Fawkes was waiting for them in a thicket, and vanished in a flash of flame, leaving behind a burning, golden feather. Moments later he returned with Dumbledore.

'I thought it was too dangerous to Apparate?' Potter asked, taking off the cloak.

'Phoenixes use their own magic to travel,' Dumbledore said cheerfully, dusting off the ashes from his robes. 'And are much less sloppy about it than the average wizard, if I remember correctly,' he added, looking at Jack.

'Harder to follow, but not impossible,' Jack told him. 'We should get moving.'

'How're we—' Potter began, and stopped as Fawkes fluttered over in a glowing flurry of fiery wings and settled on his shoulder. He cocked his head at Potter, and seemed to smile through his eyes. Potter looked from the phoenix to Dumbledore. 'Sir?'

'It's all right, Harry,' Dumbledore said, 'it was his idea.'

And in a flash of fire and smoke, Potter was gone.

'As for you, Mr Malfoy,' Dumbledore began apologetically, 'I hope you don't mind, but we'll be using a much more mundane form of transportation.'

Draco stared at him, silently damning Potter and his special treatment. Dumbledore opened his cloak and revealed a bundle of brooms. He handed Draco the sleek, auburn one, its finely woven twigs unnervingly familiar to someone who often saw them dash into sight at the last moment to snatch away the Snitch.

'Is this—'

'Harry's Firebolt?' Dumbledore asked mildly. 'Yes. So please treat it with care. Tonks had a bit of trouble trying to remove your broom from your trunk, it nearly took her fingers off.'

'Does he know I'm going to be using his broom?' Draco asked, incredulous, as Dumbledore handed Jack one of the other brooms.

'I may have forgotten to mention it,' Dumbledore said lightly, eyes sparkling. 'Ready?'

Draco mounted his broom, smirking. For the first time that he could remember, Dumbledore's presence wasn't even in the least bit irritating. The breeze tore through his hair as the Firebolt blasted off from the ground like a rocket, handle aimed north.

: : :

The sun held out all the way to Glasgow. The busy lights of the evening became obscured by dangerous looking clouds, thick with darkly coloured bellies threatening to rain them out of the sky. But it didn't rain until they were over Hogsmeade, where it began spitting on them in earnest, and as they flew in over Hogwarts Draco's hair and robes had become soaked.

Hogwarts looked ominous in the stormy surroundings. The stone was dyed black by the sky and rain, the Forbidden Forest and the lake blending into the darkness and the mist that spilled over the school grounds. Behind the great gates Draco could see large, restless shapes, thrashing and roaring in the weather below. They landed quickly, on the front steps outside the Great Hall, and Draco gave his Headmaster an incredulous look.

'Were those—'

'Dragons,' Dumbledore confirmed, nodding. 'Norwegian Ridgebacks, to be precise. Don't worry, they're more of a benefit than a liability, I've been assured.'

Jack was charming his clothes dry, but Dumbledore ignored his wet robes as he waved his wand at the doors, which groaned and clinked and shuddered before swinging inward, revealing the deserted hallway inside.

'I'm afraid the Sorting's already begun, we're a bit late,' Dumbledore informed him as they entered. 'Not to worry, however, you may go in and take a seat with your Housemates. Your things should be waiting in your room, and Miss Granger can bring you up to date on your Head Boy duties.'

Draco stopped walking as these words hit him, and just as Dumbledore went to open the doors to the Great Hall Draco asked abruptly, 'Sir?'

Dumbledore stopped, looking at him over his shoulder. 'I suppose,' he said slowly, turning back around, 'you want to know why I decided to make you Head Boy this year?'

Draco frowned, but nodded.

'It's very simple, Mr Malfoy,' he said, peering at Draco over his half-moon spectacles. 'Because I know I can trust you to make the right decisions.'

Draco watched him open the doors and stride into the middle of the Sorting without a backwards glance. Jack smirked at Draco briefly before following him up the middle isle towards the staff table, admit the many stares of the students and staff. Frowning further, Draco picked up Potter's Firebolt and followed.

Draco Malfoy had had some epic entrances in his lifetime, but this had to trump them all. Fashionably windswept, dressed in a leather jacket and Muggle jeans with his Head Boy badge pinned to his chest, Harry Potter's Firebolt slung casually over his shoulder, he strode into the Hall just as 'Stewart, Ethelred' was Sorted into Hufflepuff.

Draco headed towards the Slytherin table, smiling all thirty-two of his teeth, every eye in the hall watching him. From across the room in the direction of the Gryffindor table, he was pretty sure he heard someone demand, 'Is that my broom?'

McGonagall glared at Potter and, ignoring the question much like Draco, called forth 'Temple, Galen' to be Sorted. The latter half of 'Galen' was drowned out with a shriek, and Draco was nearly tackled by a bob of ebony hair.

'Pansy, darling,' he choked. 'You're making a scene.'

Pansy squeezed her arms tighter around his neck, and he felt sob into his chest, and instantly cringed. McGonagall was glaring daggers at him from across the room and turned to Dumbledore, as if expecting him to reprimand them, but Dumbledore merely smiled.

Pansy released his neck, and Draco managed to pull in a breath before the hiss of 'You bastard!' gave him insufficient warning to brace as the slap hit him, causing him to stagger backwards. And if his current situation wasn't embarrassing enough already, Pansy pulled another three-sixty on him and grabbed him by the collar and kissed him full on the lips.

'Miss Parkinson,' McGonagall called in threatening tones. 'Are you quite finished?'

Draco's first instinct was to pull away, but found himself leaning in quite happily until Pansy pulled away, looking pleased, utterly furious, flustered and relieved all at once.

Women were strange.

She turned around to address McGonagall, suddenly composed with a brilliant smile. 'Quite, Professor, thank you.'

Draco followed her back to the table in a sort of awe, both glowing and terrified if he should be expecting another bodily assault and whether or not he'd enjoy it.

The Slytherin table was deserted. Temple, Galen brought the grand total up to eleven students, including Draco, and two others were newly-sorted First Years. Pansy put a knowing hand on his shoulder and led him to a seat beside her, silent.

Eleven students. Three of them new. The Ravenclaw table wasn't much better off; maybe two dozen students were scattered at the enormous table, looking crestfallen.

Blaise had come back, surprisingly enough, but that was it for the Seventh Years. Even Greengrass hadn't returned, and her family had always been neutral. Blaise greeted him with a cold look which Draco returned with raised eyebrows, lying the Firebolt down on the table before him.

Blaise looked at the broom. 'Is that Potter's Firebolt?'

Draco did his best to look surprised. 'Oh, my, I suppose it is.'

Green eyes were glaring at him from across the Hall, and Draco swiped a napkin and began to polish the handle lovingly.

After 'Zachary, Luther' had been sorted into Ravenclaw, McGonagall removed the stool and took her place at the staff table as the Hall tables filled with food, and Draco realised he was starving. Pansy interrogated him the entire time, asking where he'd been and with whom, what he had been up to and why in Merlin's beard was he wearing Muggle clothes.

'I heard about your mum,' she said quietly, and the food in Draco's mouth turned to ash. 'I'm so sorry, Draco,' she added quickly. Draco looked at her, and found that she did not look in the least bit sorry. She looked furious. 'D'you have any idea who—'

'An idea,' Draco said shortly, putting down his fork. 'It doesn't matter.'

'The hell it doesn't!' Pansy hissed. 'I know she was your mother, but you're not the only one who has the right to be angry about it.'

'It doesn't matter,' he snapped again. 'You can be angry. I want people to be angry. But I'm the one who's going to take care of it.'

Pansy looked slightly worried at this declaration but didn't argue. Blaise was watching him from across the table, but said nothing. Pansy could be annoying at times, but she knew when to quit, and went for a change of subject.

'I can't believe Dumbledore made you Head Boy,' she said quickly.

'Neither can I,' Draco and Blaise said together. Draco gave him a look; Blaise smirked. 'Have you deducted any points from Gryffindor yet? I heard you spent the summer with Weasels and things.'

'Heard where?' Draco asked. 'Your mother's grapevine?'

Blaise shrugged, looking nonplussed at the go at his mother. 'People see things, people talk... '

'People should learn when to shut up,' Pansy snapped, earning a glare from Blaise and a large amount of gratitude from Draco. Dumbledore had been quite clear with Draco about what he was allowed to talk about, and what he was not, and although Draco did not respect his Headmaster anymore today than he did six years ago, he knew the man was not one to be crossed.

After the puddings had vanished into their bellies and Draco had fended off most of Pansy's further inquiries, Dumbledore rose and the room quieted, waiting for the Headmaster to begin.

'Good evening to you all,' Dumbledore began, opening his arms wide in welcome. 'Mr Filch would like me to remind you all that all products from Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes are banned from the premises. I would also like to welcome back Professor Snape, who will once again be filling the position of Potions Master.' (There was collective groan at the Gryffindor table.) 'That said, I wish you all to welcome Professor Meadows, who will be teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts this year.'

A tall, thin man with sandy hair and very bright eyes stood briefly to acknowledge Dumbledore's mention. There was scattered clapping, but Draco squinted at him, knowing he'd seen the man before somewhere.

After the clapping subsided, Dumbledore continued: 'Due to recent events and the return of Voldemort, the staff and I, as we have informed all of your guardians, have taken a great many of precautions to ensure the safety of our students. That said, I cannot stress enough that our precautions will do little if the students themselves do not adequately prepare themselves. As such, Mr Potter, with the help of our Head Girl and Professor Meadows, have agreed to once again offer the extra-curricular activity once known as "Dumbledore's Army" to any students interested in extra practise in Defense Against the Dark Arts.' There was a great deal of whooping at the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables at this. 'In addition, Professor Snape has requested that I ask that any students feeling that they may be gifted in the area of Occlumency to see him at the end of the week, at his office by eight o'clock. Now then...

'As some of you may have noticed, a good number of our students have chosen not to return this year to continue their education.' There was a quiet murmur of a agreement as eyes swept over the Slytherin table. 'While I understand and wish to preserve each House's individuals, the staff and I have decided, both with student's safety and general well-being in mind, that this year we will converge the four houses of Hogwarts down to two.'

There was a long pause in which Dumbledore allowed this information to sink in, and in which many of the students stared in confusion waiting for a clearer explanation on what he was on about.

'What this means,' Dumbledore continued, as if he was unaware that the entire Hall was on the edge of their seats, 'is that of the four houses, students will be sharing two Towers: Gryffindor and Ravenclaw respectively. As for how the Houses' populations will be divided, we have taken into account the amount of students returned... Gryffindor, which has had the most, followed by Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin with the least, and therefore—'

'Oh, no,' Weasley said loudly from across the room, 'you've got to be joking.'

'—Ravenclaw shall, for now, be sharing dormitories with the Hufflepuffs, and the Slytherins with Gryffindor.'

There was an instant uproar from either side of the Hall.

It took many threats from McGonagall and several patient minutes for the room to fall quiet enough that Dumbledore could continue, apparent unawares of the horrified stares of the Slytherins and the betrayed faces of the Gryffindors.

'While some of you may think this particular combination unwise,' much muttering confirmed this was the general consensus, 'I assure you that the staff and I have considered this decision very carefully, and considering many of the events that have taken place over the summer—' Dumbledore paused briefly, and Draco watched him look over to Harry, and then pointedly at himself, '—has led me to believe that this will be for the best.

'So!' he finished brightly, smiling at all of their horrified little faces. 'Slytherins, if you would kindly retire with your fellow Gryffindors, and Ravenclaws, likewise with Hufflepuff. Time-sheets will be passed out in the morning. Good night!'

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The Heart of the Matter