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Soldier's Welcome	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 25565 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter; that belongs to J. K. Rowling. I am making no money from this fic.

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Thank you again for all the reviews!

Chapter Three�The
Large, Hairy Hand of the Past

�� You�ve
been working too hard!�

�� Harry didn�t
want to notice the words. When Ron shouted them in his ear, though, he didn�t
have much choice. He reeled against the back of his chair and blinked stupidly
at his best friend for a long moment. Then he sighed and said, �Yes, well,
that�s rather the point of Auror training, isn�t it?� and bent again over the
leaf that Natural Philosopher Pushkin had given them in Observation. He only
had sixty facts so far. He needed to find another forty before the weekend�or,
as Pushkin had said in his mild way, he would be very disappointed in Harry.

�� But
working too hard dulls your brain.� Ron danced around his chair the way that
he�d danced around the kitchen table in Grimmauld Place on the day that Harry
received his acceptance letter. Harry found himself smiling in spite of his
weariness and irritation. Maybe Ron was right. It was only Tuesday, and that
meant he had three whole days to find the forty facts he needed.

�� Ignoring
the immediate reminder that he would be busy with other classes most of the
hours of those days, he folded his arms and shot back, �I dare you to say that
to Hermione.�

�� Ron sighed
loudly. �Her brain is a freak of nature. We can�t be expected to share it.� He
tugged at Harry�s arm impatiently. �Come on, let�s go drink at the Hog�s Head.�

�� Harry
concealed a snort of laughter as he stood up to fetch his cloak. �That�s your grand gesture of rebellion?
Something we could have done at Hogwarts?�

�� We�re not
supposed to do it now,� Ron said.
�And give me more time. I�m sure that I�ll think up grander gestures later.� He
pulled at Harry�s arm again.

�� Down,
Rover,� Harry said gravely. �Be a good dog and you can have a biscuit when we
come home.�

�� Oh, shut up,� Ron said, but he still held open
the door as Harry ducked out of their room.

*

�� It wasn�t
hard to leave the trainee barracks, once you knew where to look for the hidden
doors. Harry had assumed at first that the Floos really were the only
connection their rooms had with the outside world, but Hermione had explained
patiently to him that that was stupid, and unsafe in the event of a disaster
that collapsed the fireplaces or which meant magic wouldn�t work. Each corridor
had a cunningly hidden panel that would open if you stood in front of it and
recited a paragraph of the Auror Code of Ethics at it. It took a while to
figure out what paragraph worked for the one closest to their rooms, of course,
but an extremely serious trainee named Darien had discovered it after a long
night of non-stop reading and had taught it to the rest of them.

�� Harry
thought that doors of this sort didn�t really answer Hermione�s objection about
a disaster that meant the end of all magic in the immediate area, but he was
too exhilarated to care as he ducked out into the cool night air with Ron right
behind him. This was like being back
at Hogwarts again.

�� Ron winked
at him and nodded to his pocket. �You have your Invisibility Cloak, mate?�

�� Harry
patted his robe and felt the silky cloth wrinkle. �Yeah.� Most of the others
would ignore anyone who left at this time, six in the evening, but coming back
after nine was frowned on by the older trainees. Probably because most of them
looked as if they�d eaten lemons for breakfast all throughout the past year,
Harry thought rebelliously.

�� Ron grinned.
�Let�s go, then!� He raised his wand and Apparated to the Hog�s Head, with
Harry a breath behind him.

�� The pub was
quiet when they made their way into it, but Harry at once spotted a familiar
face. He nudged Ron so that he would look in the right direction. Ron
immediately began to wave and clap his hands. �Hagrid! Hagrid! Over here!�

�� Hagrid sat
upright and gave them a guilty look. The next moment, he seemed to realize who
it was and smiled with genuine pleasure. ��Arry!� he called, lifting his hand.
�Ron! Come over �ere and be introduced!� He turned to the figure who sat beside
him under a heavy dark cloak; it was too small to be Madame Maxime, the way
that Harry had automatically assumed it must be at first.

�� Harry could
feel his back stiffening as he and Ron made their way over to the table, Ron
bellowing an order for Firewhisky along the way. He couldn�t help it. Dark
cloaks reminded him of Death Eaters.

�� He thought
he was being overly paranoid until he recognized the crook of Ron�s elbow under
his robe. Ron was holding on tight to his wand. Harry relaxed and felt a little
better about sitting down across from Hagrid.

�� The figure
in the cloak didn�t look up or try to identify itself in any way, though Harry
caught a glimpse of white hair and a strong smell of horses. Hagrid beamed at
him. ��Arry, this is Mister��

�� The figure
reached out and laid a hand on Hagrid�s arm. Harry tried to see what the hand
was like, but a thick glove covered it.

�� Hagrid�s
face fell, and he coughed. �Er, right. This is Mister, uh, Nemo.�

�� Harry
blinked. He actually recognized the word, much to his surprise. Hermione was
�doing a bit of light reading in Latin to keep my brain occupied,� and he�d
happened to see her dictionary open at the proper place to define �nemo.� It
meant �nobody.�

�� Ron didn�t
seem to notice. �Pleased to meet you, Nemo,� he said, and leaned back in his chair
and waved his hand. �What do you have to do to get decent service here?� he
complained.

�� A
sullen-looking server finally carried the Firewhisky over to them. Ron opened
it and took a drink that made Harry wince to watch it; he was certain his
throat would be scorched if he tried the same thing. �Ah, that�s better,� he
said. �Now, Mr. Nemo, where did you say you were from? You don�t look English.�

��

Harry hid his smile in his
Firewhisky. Ron was no fool, but he was very good at looking like one.

Nemo made a short motion with his
hands, as though he was trying to fend off Ron�s eyes from looking at him, and
then he gave a dry, rasping cough and said, �I have been many places in my
time, including England. And I think our business is done here.� He rose and
gave a formal bow to Hagrid.

Harry leaned back in his chair in
imitation of Ron and tried to focus on Nemo as if he were a problem in
Observation. What would Pushkin tell him to look for? What were the five most
prominent facts that Harry could tell about him?

One.
He kept the cloak swept close around him so that none of his face showed.
That suggested he was worried about being recognized, maybe as non-human, if
anyone could see a single feature, instead of worried about preventing someone
from seeing a scar.

�� Two. He was stooped even after he rose
to his full height. Maybe that was natural; maybe he was trying to conceal how
tall he was.

�� Three. His back was rippled along the
spine for a short distance. Harry thought that came from a braid of hair.

�� Four. He�d been meeting with Hagrid.
That was bad news, especially considering that Hagrid had received Norberta�s
egg from Quirrell in this same pub.

�� Five. His cloak had frayed edges to it,
which Harry only noticed when Nemo turned away. The edges looked like the marks
of teeth. Harry smiled a bit. If he�d come to sell an exotic animal to Hagrid,
it seemed that he hadn�t got away from the animal�s lair unscathed.

�� So,�
Hagrid said, obviously eager to distract them from Nemo. �Auror training! How
yer doin� with it?�

�� Ron started
talking about Battle Healing, which was currently his least favorite class
because he was too impatient with the way that he wrapped the bandages and
Battle Healer Portillo Lopez had started to single him out for criticism. Harry
rubbed his knee and thought about talking about Gregory, but Ron was in full
flight for the moment and Harry didn�t want to interrupt him. Hermione had
already got tired of his complaining and told him to talk about something else,
and Harry had buried himself in his work so that he wouldn�t have to listen to
it.

�� Besides, he
wanted to study Hagrid.

�� Hagrid was
listening eagerly, but every now and then his left hand went down below the
table to his pocket, as though he wanted to make sure something was still
there. And then Harry noticed that he was carrying small crumbs of bread and
meat with him when he reached down.

�� Harry
stifled a sigh. Ten to one that he�s
violating the Ban on Experimental Breeding again.

�� Hagrid,�
he said quietly, once Ron paused to take a drink of Firewhisky and he could.
�Are you sure that you�re all right?�

�� Hagrid�s
eyes turned to him with a slightly panicked, slightly guilty expression that
didn�t reassure Harry at all. But then Hagrid beamed brightly and nodded.
�Completely fine,� he said, while his smile grew into a wide one that wouldn�t
have fooled Professor Trelawney.

�� There
isn�t anything in your pocket, for example?� Harry persisted.

�� Hagrid�s
smile froze, and his hand patted down a little too hard on the pocket in
question, resulting in a damp squeak. The next moment, the pocket squirmed, and
a bright orange head showed itself in the firelight. Harry stared. It looked
like the head of a Chinese Fireball dragon, but with a sharp beak instead of a
muzzle, and the legs he could see hanging over Hagrid�s pocket were bird
talons.

�� Is name�s
Chester,� Hagrid said promptly, defensively, putting a hand on the little
monster�s head to shove it back into his robe. ��Is mother was a dragon and �is
father was a �ippogriff and they were going to kill �im just because �e was �imself! I couldn�t let them, could I?�
He cradled Chester closer and looked at Harry imploringly.

�� Harry put a
hand to his forehead and sighed. He knew that he really shouldn�t let Hagrid
walk around with Chester. It would cause trouble in the end and Hagrid would
probably nearly be sacked again.

�� On the
other hand, what would happen if he reported it? Chester would be taken away
and destroyed, and Hagrid could be sent to Azkaban for violating the
Experimental Breeding laws. At the least, he would be heavily fined, and he
might have to leave the position of Hogwarts gamekeeper. Harry knew that he
would never be happy anywhere else, and the thestrals and Fang and the
hippogriffs would miss him.

�� All right,� he said. �But just make sure
that you keep him safe and somewhere where he can�t hurt anybody, Hagrid.�

�� Hagrid
reached across the table to give Harry a hug that left him gasping for breath.
�I knew you�d understand!� he said,
and wiped away two large tears so that he could blink and smile at Harry. �Yer
a wonder for a wizard, �Arry, always willing to look beyond yerself��

�� Harry
coughed sharply and urged the conversation in a new direction, because he�d had
quite enough of excessive praise since the war and because Ron was starting to
look jealous. �How�s Olympe?�

�� Listening
to Hagrid talk about his wife wasn�t the most pleasant diversion in the world, but at least it got them safely
far away from the subject of Chester and whether Harry was a good wizard or
not.

*

�� There was a
steady thumping down the corridor that was preventing Draco from studying the
map of the Battlefield Tactics classroom he�d created the other day.

�� After the
fifth thump, Draco put the map aside, stood up, and crept carefully towards the
door. Though he hadn�t yet managed to find his way to the upper balcony that
Ketchum wanted them to reach, he�d learned a great deal about moving silently
and trying to avoid the trainees that way. The Mudblood was a good teacher if
you listened to his offhand comments and ignored the inane chatter about Muggle
culture that he kept exchanging with Granger.

�� When he
peered out the door, he had to catch the wall to keep from collapsing in
laughter.

�� Potter was
dragging Weasley down the corridor. It looked as though Weasley had tried to
walk leaning on his shoulder at first, but they�d obviously had too much
Firewhisky for that. Now Potter was trying to smuggle Weasley under his
Invisibility Cloak, but that ugly orange hair stood out like a beacon. And
besides, Weasley was staggering so badly that Potter would have had to use the
cloak like a multi-layered Shield Charm to keep him out of sight.

�� Well,
well,� Draco said, taking up a negligent pose with his arms folded and his legs
crossed. �Potter and Weasley, out after curfew during the second week and
openly drunk.�

�� Potter
started guiltily and looked over at Draco. Weasley slumped to the floor and lay
there, softly giggling. Draco smiled. He would be left to negotiate with Potter
alone, then, which was the way he liked it. Weasley preferred to let fly with
his fists, but Potter was always good for an insult or two.

�� Potter
tilted his head back, his throat working. His jaw clenched, and he said with
coolness that Draco would have admired in anyone else, �Malfoy. I reckon that
you came out for the company.�

�� Draco bared
his teeth. It was well-known that he was the only first-year trainee to have a
private room, not because he�d paid for it but because his assigned roommate
had refused to share with him. He tapped his finger on his cheek and made
himself look thoughtful, refusing to lose his temper the way Potter wanted him
to. �Let�s see. I think there was a list of items that trainee Aurors are not
supposed to possess. I think�yes, I think
that Invisibility Cloaks were on it.� He smirked and leaned back, waiting for
the counter to that one.

�� Potter too
obviously couldn�t think of a response. He stared at his feet instead and
fetched out a large, noisy sigh. �What do you want, Malfoy?�

�� Draco
paused, startled. He hadn�t expected Potter to give in so quickly, and so he
hadn�t thought ahead of time about what Potter could, clumsily of course, offer
him.

�� Draco
studied him quickly, too aware of the need to get out of the corridors before
some of the second-year trainees came along to want to linger. A pity; he would
have preferred to take his time staring at that defiant face, still wrecked by
the scar on Potter�s forehead, and those angry green eyes.

�� Private
dueling lessons,� he said at last, hoping his voice sounded as adult as he
wanted it to.

�� Potter
blinked. �Excuse me?�

�� We won�t
get to dueling until next year,� Draco said, �and I don�t want to wait that
long. I know that you taught your little club at Hogwarts some tricks. I want
to learn what you taught them.�

�� Potter
raked his hand through his hair, back and forth, meditatively. Draco had to
look away before the sight of such a mess made him physically ill. �I didn�t
teach them a lot, Malfoy,� Potter said at last. �Patronus Charms, and some
other common defensive magic. You�ll probably learn just as much in Dearborn�s
class.�

�� Draco faced
him, reveling in the rare sensation of having Potter entirely in his power.
�Then you�ll just have to come up with new things to teach me, won�t you?�

�� Potter�s
jaw clenched. Draco sneered at him. For a moment, he did look longingly at the
Invisibility Cloak clutched in Potter�s other hand and thought about demanding
to borrow it, but he doubted that Potter would give it up without a fuss, which
might attract the attention of other trainees. Besides, there was every chance
that he would turn around and report Draco
for having a contraband item during the time he was borrowing it. Draco was
no longer interested in making things easy for his enemies.

�� Fine,�
Potter said at last, in a clipped tone that indicated he was probably realizing
how big a time commitment this would be, given the rest of their classes. �When
do you want to meet?�

�� Wednesday
evenings work fine for me,� Draco said, and Potter grimaced in resignation;
Wednesday was tomorrow. But he nodded. �And I think we can work something out
in my room, since, as you pointed out, it is
a private space where no one is likely to intrude on us.�

�� Potter
surveyed him narrowly a moment more, then nodded again. �Yeah, Malfoy, all
right. And in return, you don�t tell anyone that you saw us out.� He took a
step forwards, as if he would start a duel right here and now to secure Draco�s
silence.

�� Draco fell
back a pace and raised his hands. �See you? I spent all evening studying in my
room and trying to better myself. The thing,� he was compelled to add, �that we
are here for, rather than testing our
Firewhisky-drinking capacity.�

�� Potter gave
him a thin smile and hauled Weasley into their room, tossing the Cloak after
him and shutting the door. �Go make that reality, then,� he said, leaning
against the door with his hand on his wand.

�� Draco choked
on a laugh. Potter was heroically protecting his drunken best friend while
Draco was still out here, though if he knew anything about Slytherins, he
should have realized that Draco would see no point in striking when he�d driven
home a bargain. �Later, then, Potter,� he said, with a small bow, and turned
back towards his room.

�� An even
louder thump sounded from down the corridor.

�� Draco
whirled around, his wand out of his sleeve before he thought about it. A moment
later, his perceptions caught up to his instincts, and he shuddered. From the
direction of the thump came the stench of Dark magic so foul that it surrounded
Draco like a veil of greasy smoke. He coughed, putting his arm across his mouth
to muffle the sound. If the Dark Lord or the Death Eaters had heard him
coughing like that during some of the torture sessions he had watched, they
would have murdered him.

�� What is that?�

�� Draco was
pleased to see that Potter at least had the sense to keep his voice soft. His
right hand was on his wand, his left hand pressed to his forehead. When he
lowered the left hand to shift himself into a better battle position, Draco saw
that his scar was bright red. He stared at it in terror. Immediate doubts about
whether Potter had really managed to
kill the Dark Lord flooded him, and he found himself unable to move.

�� Potter
glanced at him, seemed to understand the expression on his face without
explanation�remarkable in itself�and shook his head a little. �Not what you
think, Malfoy,� he whispered. �Since Voldemort died, my scar reacts like that
to any Dark magic. I promise that he�s dead.� He hesitated, then brushed one
palm across Draco�s shoulder for a moment, shaking his hand afterwards. �I�ll
go investigate this. Go back to your room. Alert someone, maybe.� He began to
prowl tensely forwards, his footsteps soundless.

�� Draco
caught his breath, and his pride flared up as the images of the Dark Lord
lurking down the corridor, waiting to punish him, fell away. Right behind the
pride came humiliation. Potter had seen him terrified. Draco had to do
something to make up for that, or Potter would see the same thing whenever he
looked at Draco.

�� I�ll come
with you,� he said, and started following Potter.

�� Potter
glanced over his shoulder with a tight mouth, but seemed to understand that it
was stupid to complain about it. Instead, he nodded and faced forwards again,
weaving his wand in front of him. It must have been a nonverbal Disillusionment
Charm, because a moment later the sight of his body dimmed. Draco whispered the
words to the Charm�he hadn�t mastered it nonverbally yet�and crept up beside
Potter as his took effect.

�� Potter
brought his mouth close to Draco�s ear, making Draco shiver. He hadn�t been
this close to Potter since they both became adults and their magic fully
matured. It was like being pulled into an envelope of warm water. Maybe Potter
had the ability to feel Draco�s magic, too, because he hesitated inexplicably
before he whispered, �Just around the corner, I think. And the Dark magic is
getting stronger.�

�� Draco
nodded. He was on the verge of holding his breath; it was an effort to make
himself keep breathing that corrupted air. He slid a bit closer to Potter, and
Potter�s magic reached out and welcomed him. The next few breaths he drew were
sweeter.

�� Despite the
situation, Draco took the chance to close his eyes in disbelief. The first
person with compatible magic he met after he was adult would be Harry bloody Potter.

�� Potter, he
saw when he looked again, obviously didn�t know the source of the comfort he
was feeling from Draco, if the way he eyed him was any indication. But he
turned back to the threat they would be facing, and gripped his wand, and moved
on. Draco hesitated for only a moment longer before following him.

�� The sight
before them when they rounded the corner made Draco stop, his heart hammering
so hard that he thought he would faint, the air gone sour again despite
Potter�s closeness.

�� This
section of the corridor was broad and open, a long stretch of blank wall
between the end of the first-year rooms and the beginning of the doors that
belonged to the second-year trainees. An excellent place for someone to set up
a display that demanded attention�and after one glance, Draco was sure that was
what this was meant to be.

�� To one side
of the wall hung a ghastly illusion, a hanged man twisting back and forth, his
head slumped forwards, his tongue standing out black and swollen. His legs were
baggy and bloated, as though he�d been drowned before the hanging. The rope
that contained him was a strangling snake, itself dead and slashed with
multiple wounds. If Draco hadn�t noticed, from the beginning, the transparency
that indicated it was an illusion, as well as the fact that the snake simply
hung in midair instead of being slung over something, he would have fled
screaming.

�� The wall
itself bore five giant letters in a liquid that possessed a color somewhere
between black and red, like a mixture of oil and blood. NIHIL.

�� That was
Latin for �nothing.� Draco knew that. He clung to the knowledge to hold back
the scream that was trying to bubble its way up his throat anyway.

�� Potter took
an immense, choking breath. Then he stepped in front of Draco and aimed his
wand at the illusion of the hanging man. �Finite
Incantatem,� he said.

�� The
illusion blew apart into writhing black streamers that headed straight for
them. Draco fell back into Potter�s side, ducking his head so that his mouth
and nose were sheltered from the magic in Potter�s cloak. He didn�t want to
breathe in the Dark magic any more than he already had.

�� Potter
bellowed another Finite, and his
magic spread around Draco like a beam of intense sunshine. The Dark magic, as
he could see when he dared to peer up from his shelter, had burned away.

�� The letters
on the wall glowed a moment more, then dissolved, dripping, into globules of
tar that ran away into hidden corners. In a moment, nothing was left.

�� Potter
stood where he was, breathing harshly. Draco leaned against him, a hand clamped
on his shoulder, and wondered if he knew that his power was anathema to Dark
magic in general, not just to the Dark Lord.

�� And then,
of course, doors began to fly open along the corridor and voices started
abusing them, and they had to deal with the consequences of being heroes.

*

�� starstruck86:
Thank you! I assure you that the petty comparisons will continue, from both
Harry and Draco�s end of the stick.

�� yaoiObsessed:
Thank you! Though the classes don�t appear much in this chapter, they�ll do it
in subsequent chapters.

�� Lilith: I
think you will be surprised about their best classes, when they have some time
to sort themselves out.

�� Thrnbrooke:
Thank you!

�� SamuraiSaaya:
Thank you!

�� SP777:
Thanks! I was worried about inventing a bunch of original characters, but I don�t
think there are enough canon Aurors to believably teach all those classes and
also work as full-time Aurors.

�� Draco may
do well in tactics if he can past the fact that the teacher is Muggleborn.

�� Battle
Healer Portillo Lopez is meant to be Arabic-Spanish, though the touches
suggesting the first are fairly light.

�� And thanks
again for reviewing, and for suggesting the story.
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