Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Cannot Save You Now	By : tigrelilje Category: Harry Potter AU/AR > Slash - Male/Male Views: 15709 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 5
Disclaimer: I do not own any part of the Harry Potter fandom nor do I make any money from writing this story.

Chapter List
- 3
- 4
- 5
{Speaking} = Parseltongue (Of course I had to make sure it was incorporated into this story!)
Chapter 3
Eventually the Weasley family and Hermione were escorted down to their actual vaults and Harry and his group were able to exit Gringotts.
“Where to first, Son?” questioned Tristan. Never before had he had an heir and never before had he been required to take a child school shopping. His vampire courts would laugh if they saw him now, playing the domestic human father.
“Well,” Harry said slowly, “most importantly, I need to replace my wand. I cannot use my old one at school, Dumbledore would recognize it. But I think the core is still suited to me. It is the wood that I would like to see about replacing. Are there any wand shops in Knockturn Alley?” Harry turned to question Blaise.
“Yes,” his friend replied, “I can bring you to it if you like. Why not just visit Ollivander’s, though?”
“Ollivander created my current wand,” Harry explained, “He would recognize it in an instant. It would take him no time at all to realize that I was once Harry Potter and that I am clearly not dead and buried.”
“Ah, of course,” said Blaise, looking suitably ashamed that he had missed the detail himself. However, he quickly wiped his face back into indifference and led the way to Knockturn Alley.
***
The place was tiny, dirty, and entirely unremarkable, just like every other shop in Knockturn that Harry had ever seen. There was a tiny window in the front with the word Tebras’ painted on the glass. A little bell rang in the back of the store when they entered so they waited for someone to appear to help them.
“May I help you?” inquired a middle aged man as he made his way to them from the back of the store. His hair was shoulder length and shot through with gray while his eyes regarded them suspiciously in contradiction to the polite tone of voice he had used to greet them. To Harry’s mild surprise, his Father stepped forward to speak with the man.
“Yes,” he began, with a slight smile. Harry wasn’t positive, but he thought Tristan may have flashed his fangs a bit. At least, the shopkeeper paled slightly. Knockturn Alley was probably the only place they could get away with flaunting their real nature without raising an alarm. “My Son has a wand that he would like to see about adjusting. He was hoping to maybe keep the core but replace the wood.”
“Of course, sir,” the man replied, with only the barest of tremors in his voice. Harry had to give the man credit as he handed over his wand to be inspected. “A phoenix feather?” he questioned in surprise before his look became thoughtful, “Hmm… Let me see, I think I know just the wood to place this holly with,” he said as he began walking to the back of the store, earlier nervousness forgotten as his professional interest took over. “This should not take long if you would like to wait otherwise you can come back later to pick it up.”
“We will wait,” Harry said. The man nodded before completely disappearing.
“Why keep the core and not just get a completely new wand?” Anastasia questioned after they were left alone.
“Well, considering that phoenixes represent rebirth, I believe that it will still be the most compatible wandcore for myself,” Harry explained. “I am rather attached to my wand; I went through a lot with it and it never let me down like so many other things in my past. I’m almost positive the holly wood is the reason that it no longer feels quite right in my hand. We shall see if I was right when he is finished, however.”
Less than twenty minutes had passed before the man came back to the front with a different wand.
“I replaced the holly with yew wood,” he explained. “Yew is known for its extreme longevity, which seemed appropriate in this case. It also could be seen as a balance between life and death, because it produces edible fruit but the seeds are poisonous and in some folklore it symbolizes death and resurrection.”
Harry accepted the wand as the man held it out to him. It was like being eleven at Ollivander’s all over again. The familiar warm tingle of magic ran up his arm as he reconnected with his wand. A smile found its way onto his face without his permission before he was able to regain his indifferent expression; which quickly morphed into one of shock for a moment once he had fully processed what the wandmaker had said. He saw his father giving him a questioning look but he shook his head slightly to indicate that now was not the time to explain before turning back to the wandmaker.
“Thank you, Mr…”
“Petros,” the man supplied.
“Mr. Petros,” Harry repeated. “Thank you very much. How much do I owe you?”
“Five galleons, if you please,” he replied. Harry handed him the coins and gave a final nod before leaving the store.
“Back to Diagon Alley, yes?” Tristan questioned. They made their way back to the busy street before deciding where to go next.
“I think my mother and I are rather hungry,” Blaise suggested, “Shall we have lunch next?”
“I do not require any food,” Harry stated. He looked to his father and received a nod of agreement. “If you don’t mind, I would like to make a run to the Magical Menagerie. We could meet you at the restaurant for a drink when we are done,” he suggested. They agreed and split off in separate directions.
“And what is it that you need at a pet store, Harry?” Tristan questioned, slipping into the less formal once they were alone by habit. Harry figured he wouldn’t resume the pretense when they met back up with Blaise and his mother and he had had a chance to get more acquainted with new situation of shopping with his heir.
“I had an idea when we were on our way to Gringotts earlier,” Harry explained with a mischievous grin as they entered the store. They nodded politely to the woman behind the counter before continuing further into the store. “I have a lot of investigating to do this year, and the more eyes and ears I have to help the better. Especially if those eyes and ears can sneak into places that might present a slight problem for myself without detection… such as the Headmaster’s office.”
He stopped in front of the snake tanks and searched for one that appealed to him. It needed to be agile and sneaky, but above all else, it had to be intelligent and cunning. He caught sight of one and went to take a closer look. It was an entirely black adder that appeared to be about two and a half feet long. Harry couldn’t ask for a better choice. Even if the adder was spotted by accident at Hogwarts, they were native to Scotland and no one would have any cause to be suspicious. It was a gorgeous specimen. Perfect for hiding in shadows. Now, all Harry had to determine was whether it was an intelligent creature.
“Father, keep a look out while I greet it please?” he ended the statement with a slight questioning tone to not appear demanding or rude before turning to the snake.
{Hello} Harry hissed in greeting, as quietly as possible.
{You can speak?} the black snake responded after a moment or two of silence. It seemed shocked, if snakes experienced such things. It had raised its head toward him as it spoke and Harry noticed that its eyes were a reddish color. How fitting that it will be mine, Harry thought.
{Yes, I can. Do you have a name?} Harry asked.
{I am called Ciaran} the, obviously male, snake responded.
{Ciaran, I would like to take you home with me and ask for your help to spy on my enemies at times. Is this acceptable to you?} Harry asked. After all, it was a free thinking creature that he could understand. It was best to seek approval.
{Yes, I would accept that, Master} was the response. Harry considered correcting the use of the title Master, but left it alone. He would introduce himself and leave it up to Ciaran.
{My name is Harry, Ciaran. Shall we get you out of here now?}
***
“That’s quite a beautiful friend you have chosen for yourself,” Tristan commented as they stepped out of the menagerie and began to make their way toward the restaurant to meet up with Blaise and Anastasia.
“Mmm, isn’t he?” Harry commented fondly while admiring the snake that was now wrapped around his left forearm under his robes. “His name is Ciaran. I think he will make a good partner.”
“It was wise of you to choose a native species,” Tristan commented, unaware that Harry had thought the same thing in the store.
“I am nothing if not devious, Father,” Harry replied with a smirk.
“Are you ever going to enlighten me as to the cause of your surprise when the wandmaker returned your wand?” Tristan asked.
“Yes, I was going to explain once we met up with Blaise and his mother,” Harry reassured as they arrived at the designated restaurant. A hostess guided them to the table where Blaise and his mother were already eating. Harry and Tristan each ordered a glass of red wine before settling into their seats.
“So Harry, what was the cause of surprise?” Tristan prompted immediately. Harry rolled his eyes slightly as he flicked his new wand to create a privacy bubble around their table. Honestly, Harry thought in fond exasperation, the man is over a thousand years old. I would have thought he would have learned some patience by now.
“I am not sure if I ever told you this, Blaise and Anastasia, but I know that you know, Father,” Harry began. “My wand shares a core with that of Voldemort.” He had to pause for a moment as Blaise and his mother both gasped in surprise. “Yes, not only do we both have phoenix feather cores, but they are from the exact same phoenix, Fawkes. Dumbledore’s familiar.” The looks of utter astonishment on the faces of the Zabini’s provided Harry with some amusement. He always did feel a little smug every time he shattered a pureblood mask in public.
“Anyway,” he continued, “the only difference to our wands was the wood but now…,” Harry trailed off for a moment before finishing with, “well, now they are exactly the same, except that I’m sure the wood is from two different trees. If I ever do confront Voldemort in a duel, not that I really plan to, it’ll have to be all wandless. We couldn’t duel properly before; I can only imagine it will be much worse now.”
“Blimey, Harry! Only you could casually discuss dueling the Dark Lord,” Blaise exclaimed. Harry was forced to let out a soft laugh at the completely common word that had escaped Blaise. Seems he was more shocked than Harry thought.
“Always you are thinking of Voldemort,” Tristan reprimanded gently, “are there not other things you could be thinking of? Or at least think of some of the other individuals that wronged you.”
“Father, I do not fixate on him because I am obsessed or something, have no fear,” Harry reassured. “It is more that in life, I suppressed every similarity that existed between myself and him. I had been brainwashed to think all things Voldemort, Slytherin, Dark, etc. were evil. No questions asked. So of course I denied every similarity I had with the man. But now that I have a new life, I find that I am able to accept all our similarities, and in fact be rather curious as to how we have so many. It is part of accepting who I am, yes?”
Tristan grumbled for a moment before agreeing. Blaise and his mother had recovered their composure and Blaise was giving Harry a thoughtful look.
“Yes, Blaise?” Harry asked as he took a sip of his wine.
“Just wondering how the hell you had everyone so fooled in the past,” Blaise commented. Harry had to laugh at that.
***
Their little group made their way to Flourish & Blotts to pick up their books. Blaise and his Father had somehow gotten into a discussion about the days in which the Founders had lived. Tristan was shamelessly describing his friendship with Salazar Slytherin while Blaise stared at him in almost slack-jawed amazement. Ah, so that was where Harry got his penchant for trying to shatter pureblood masks in public.
“Harry?” the quiet voice of Anastasia inquired from beside him. Harry immediately turned to her.
“Yes, Mrs. Zabini?” Harry asked with a smile. He liked Blaise’s mother quite a lot. She was a strong woman who could be quite malicious when the occasion called. He couldn’t help liking her. And really, all vampires appreciated beauty, and Blaise’s mother had it.
“Come now, Harry, I have told you before, call me Anastasia,” she reprimanded with a teasing smile.
“Of course, how silly of me,” Harry laughed.
“What classes are you taking this year at Hogwarts?” she asked. “I suppose this is sort of like a new beginning for you, will you be taking all the same ones that you did in the past?”
“No,” Harry responded with a snort of amusement. “I was a fool when I picked my upper level classes the first time. I mean, Divination? What was I thinking? Trelawny predicted my death every class period,” Harry gave a thoughtful look before adding, “Well, I guess she was right in the end, wasn’t she?”
Anastasia gave him a playful smack on his arm to which he laughed before continuing with, “I will also be giving up Care of Magical Creatures. Not that the subject isn’t interesting but with Hagrid teaching it, we really never learned anything useful, except that half-giants don’t actually know what constitutes a dangerous creature. How I wish I could drop History of Magic, but it is unfortunately required. I’ll be taking Ancient Runes and Arithmancy this year as my electives, though. Father spent the last month catching me up in those subjects. I was surprised he even knew the subject material. But I suppose I shouldn’t have been; he was a wizard himself before he was ever a vampire. And thank goodness for my father’s vampire-accelerated teaching and my own vampire information retention abilities.”
Anastasia just laughed before saying, “So you and Blaise will be in all the same classes?”
“Yes, we will. It will be nice to be around someone who really knows me instead of a sea of strangers that I will be keeping my distance from.”
Harry and Anastasia walked in silence for a moment while watching Blaise furiously question Tristan up ahead of them. Apparently he had gotten over his awe and his curiosity was taking over.
“May I ask you a rather personal question, Anastasia?” Harry questioned after a moment.
“Of course, Harry,” she responded with curiosity.
“Do you ever regret that Blaise was raised around vampires his whole life?”
“No, I do not,” Anastasia answered, with no hesitation. Harry’s surprise must have shown, because she gave him a smile before continuing, “His father is a vampire now, and I am his mate. It is lucky that our family was able to stay together, even if to the rest of the world I appear as a bloodthirsty widow of multiple husbands.” Harry had to laugh at that. The woman was mated to a vampire, some of that cruel bloodlust was bound to show itself every once in a while. Hence, the multiple dead husbands of Mrs. Anastasia Zabini.
“It would not be right for Blaise to not understand his father’s instincts and behaviors,” Anastasia continued. “Especially as I am with him, some of those behaviors have made an appearance in me as well. This is just how our life is, it would not have been fair to separate Blaise from us and ask him to be different. And really, this life seems to suit him and he is happy. That is all that I can ask as a mother.”
Harry felt a momentary pang of jealousy towards Blaise that he had grown up with such love and support. But the feeling was overshadowed by his own happiness that his friend had had such a life. I am clearly becoming too attached to Blaise, Harry thought without any real conviction. So many sentimental human emotions for him and his mother. At least I know that I am still capable of them with those I trust.
Flourish & Blotts was packed. It shouldn’t have surprised Harry since it was only a few days before the beginning of term. Harry and Blaise went off to gather the books that they each required while their parents waited outside in the fresh air. They quickly visited the other shops as well and finished buying their school supplies. They started to head back to the Leaky Cauldron when Harry caught sight of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes. It had to be the shop that the twins opened with the money he gave them. He slowed to a stop and stared at the store before deciding that he wanted to see what use his money had been put to.
And to see if he could determine how the twins felt about his death.
He took a few steps towards the store before Blaise grabbed his arm to stop him.
“Why are you going in there?” he questioned, his voice was a mix between confusion and distain at the thought of entering a shop owned by Weasleys.
“You know they needed money, obviously, to open this store, yes?” Harry questioned rhetorically. Blaise nodded anyway before Harry continued, “Well, I gave it to them, in fourth year. Might as well see how they spent it, don’t you think?” Harry asked with a raised eyebrow before walking into the store. Blaise was surprised, but also heard his unspoken desire to see if Harry’s money was all that the twins were missing.
The interior of the store was almost painful to the eye, and that wasn’t even taking into account all the strange noises that were making Harry’s brain feel as if it were on overload. He blinked a few times and gave his head a little shake to try to clear it. The store was so packed, Harry wondered for a moment if he would even be able to get more than five steps inside the doors. He glanced at his companions and saw the same look of disorientation on their faces that he had just felt. He smiled; it was just like the twins to cram as many clashing noises and colors as they could into one space.
They eventually made their way further into the store. Harry had to stifle a laugh at the look on his Father’s face. It could almost be described as that of a child in a candy shop and Harry really couldn’t blame him. The mischief and desire to bring discomfort to others that was obviously a part of the thought process behind the creation of the merchandise appealed to their vampire nature. Harry could tell his Father wanted to meet the two devious minds behind it all.
As they were browsing the different displays, Harry spotted the flaming red hair of Ronald and Ginny Weasley and the mousy brown curls of Hermione Granger. He laid a hand on Blaise’s arm and tilted his head in their direction. His Father and Anastasia saw the movement and followed their gazes towards Harry’s former friends.
Harry had only been able to hear about Molly Weasley’s crimes against him at Gringotts. He was hoping to hear more about the betrayals of his former best friends. Ron was not known for censoring his mouth, no matter where he was, and Harry thought that he might feel safe enough in his brothers’ establishment to spew his usual verbal garbage and condemn himself; never mind how many people might overhear him. And it appeared that Harry was in luck as he tuned in to their conversation.
“What are we supposed to do, Hermione?” he heard Ron questioning Hermione.
“About what, Ronald?” Hermione’s voice sounded tired, with a hint of annoyance, leading Harry to wonder if this was an old rant that she was sick of hearing.
“Well, about You-Know-Who, of course!” Ron hissed in frustration. Harry could see the side of Hermione’s face and saw the condescending look flash across her face when Ron failed to say Voldemort’s name, as usual. “That bastard went and got himself killed, after endangering us, may I add, and left us all to rot. Really, how hard was it to just sit at his relatives’ house and stay out of trouble? But no, he probably went off and tried to save a… a kitten, or something, and got himself killed. He always acted as if he was so special, always breaking rules without a thought to what could happen, like nothing could touch him. Obviously, there wasn’t anything special about him if he couldn’t even stay alive in a muggle neighborhood!”
Hermione’s face was darkening with each word and she spluttered for a few moments, at a loss for words, before seeming to pull herself together.
“Are you even listening to the words coming out of your mouth, Ronald?” she hissed in anger. “You are making a fool of yourself. And how could you talk about Harry like that, he was your best friend!”
“Obviously not,” Ron shot back, “if he had been, he wouldn’t have always kept me to the shadows. I did just as many things as him. I’m just as good as he was, there was nothing special about him. And you better watch what you say, Hermione, unless you want to end up alone. You know I’m the only friend you got left, now that that asshole’s gone.”
Hermione’s face showed just how livid she was with this speech, but instead of responding, she turned to Ginny, as if hoping at least one Weasley child had not lost their mind.
“Ron,” Ginny began, but Ron cut her off.
“No, Ginny,” he said furiously, “You only feel sad because you wanted to marry him and live the life of Mrs. Potter. You need to get that out of your head, you were better than him anyway. He would have just gotten you killed; he was always putting us in danger without a thought!”
Harry glanced at Ginny, to see if this was true, and though he could tell that she was going to deny that claim, he could also see that it was actually the truth. Ginny had wanted him for a fantasy life she had built up in her mind, not because she really cared. And really, how could she, Harry thought. They barely knew each other when he died; she had only just started to get over her fan girl awe.
Harry wondered why he wasn’t exploding in rage while listening to this conversation, but he supposed it was because he had expected this from Ron. He was pleasantly surprised to see that he could probably take Hermione off of his revenge list. She seemed to be truly distraught. The little bit of humanity inside Harry called out to him to reunite with his former best friend and whisk her away from Ron, but he was going to have to think more about it before making a move. He couldn’t have her telling anyone who he really was.
“Really now, little brother and sister,” came a new voice into the conversation. Harry glanced around to see Fred eyeing his siblings with a disgusted look in his eyes, though his facial expression was pleasant enough. Harry experienced a small moment of hope that he still had the friendship of the twins, before he mentally stamped it out. He had always liked them a lot, but there was no place for emotions when one was plotting revenge. He needed proof first.
“Is that anyway to talk about our dark-haired brother?” Fred continued, with a dangerous edge to his voice, which of course went right over Ron’s and Ginny’s heads. Hermione caught it, though, and Harry saw her relax as she realized that she at least still had the twins to support her in this.
“Brother?” Ron spluttered in outrage, “He wasn’t part of our family!”
“Not sure why you think that?” Fred said in a bored tone, “I liked him more as a brother than I did you. It was refreshing to have a younger brother who wasn’t always plotting ways to be better than his older siblings. Imagine that.”
“How can you say that?!” Ron exclaimed, “We’re related by blood!”
“An unfortunate fact of life that I bemoan every day,” Fred muttered, while Hermione turned her head away to hide her smile. Harry couldn’t remember ever seeing one of the twins so serious. Maybe his death had hit them harder than he expected. He would find a way to contact them soon.
Ron was about to deliver what was no doubt another idiotic line about family loyalty the he himself seemed to be lacking, when he caught sight of something behind Fred that made his face flush even more red with anger, if that were possible.
“What are you doing here, Malfoy?” Ron asked angrily, before a disgustingly smug look appeared on his face and he added, “Jealous how successful Weasleys really are?”
Fred shot a look at his brother that was a mix of disgust and incredulity at the fact the Ron had tried to lump himself in with the twins success just because they were related. He was about to retort with something that was sure to be scathing but Malfoy beat him to it.
“Really, Weasel?” Draco drawled in his signature bored tone of voice. “Riding on the coattails of your older brothers? Just because they had what it takes to succeed, does not mean the same applies to you. Because it does not. Though I do wonder where the money came from to start this little endeavor,” he added quietly, almost to himself. Harry was watching the blond intently, while also trying to not appear obvious. There was something about him…
The longer Harry stared, the more it felt as though something was very gently squeezing his heart. Not enough of a sensation to really be a problem or distract him, but just enough for him to be distantly aware of it. It was rather irritating, if truth be told. Harry was glad that his group was hidden behind a display that they could pretend they were interested in. He could see Blaise, especially, trying to keep out of sight so Malfoy wouldn’t notice him and draw attention to their group so they could continue eavesdropping.
“I can’t even blame Potter for disappearing. If I had a friend like you Weasel, I’d run off, too,” Malfoy continued before walking off, unfortunately right toward their group before they could move out of sight.
“Zabini,” Malfoy greeted in a slightly less cold voice than he had used to speak with the Weasleys. He noticed the others standing with his housemate and added, perhaps a bit suspiciously (though that may have been Harry’s imagination), “How was your summer? And who are your companions?”
Unfortunately, Ron noticed their group and apparently decided that it was within his rights to confront any Slytherins in his presence.
“What are you Slytherins doing in here?” Ron began, on what was sure to be a rant that would only exhibit just how stupid he was, before Harry cut him off.
“Do you ever stop speaking?” Harry snapped, in the coldest voice he possibly could, and he made sure his words cracked with danger. As a vampire, his coldest voice was quite a bit more terrifying than the average human. He could even see that Malfoy was taken aback, whether because he was afraid or impressed, Harry couldn’t be bothered to care at the moment. He was using almost all of his control to stop his internal predator from killing Ron in the most painful way he could think of. He was even sure that his eyes probably had a dull glow to them as he tried to suppress his power. “Do not assume that anyone cares about a single thing that escapes that hideously freckled face of yours.” He gave him one last contemptuous look before strolling out of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes with his small group that now included Malfoy. Malfoy’s mother, Narcissa, was waiting outside for her son and she joined their group.
“Henry,” Tristan began, with a slight emphasis on his official name. Harry could see Blaise startle for a second and had to silently thank his Father for the gentle reminder that they were no longer among only friends, “Do you really think that is the best way to introduce yourself to your new classmates?”
Tristan, of course, completely approved of his son’s vicious comments and tone, but he might as well be seen pretending to act as a normal human father would act. At least, he thought his reprimand was normal for a human.
“Oh, Father,” Harry responded with a perfectly calm and bored drawl, “it’s not as if I would have ever been friends with such a complete moron and you know it. Besides, you know Blaise has explained to me all about the Houses at Hogwarts. I doubt I will even see much of him. There’s no point in pretending you didn’t enjoy watching the show,” he finished with a mischievous smile.
His Father gave a noncommittal shrug but let it go, because honestly, he had enjoyed it. Especially how easily intimated the Weasley child was.
“So Blaise, were you going to introduce us all?” Harry purred as he redirected his attention to his friend, pretending he had no idea who the snooty blonde family was. It was slightly cruel, but he enjoyed the reactions he received when he used that tone of voice. Blaise flushed slightly, though you couldn’t really tell with his dark skin, before clearing his throat and looking away from Harry so he couldn’t be distracted. Reluctantly, Blaise made the introductions that would have had to take place eventually anyway.
"Um, yes, of course,” he stumbled a bit before calming down, “Henry, Mr. Renard, this is one of my housemates from school, Draco Malfoy, and his mother. Draco, Mrs. Malfoy, this is my friend Henry Renard and his father. Henry is transferring to Hogwarts this year.” Blaise seemed unsure whether Tristan was willing to have his first name given out so he had opted to keep the introducing simple and not include any of the adults first names.
“A pleasure,” Harry purred, directing his tone toward Malfoy this time, just for the hell of it, as he shook his hand. Malfoy’s reaction was far more satisfying with his pale skin and his reaction made Harry positively gleeful. He was sure Malfoy was horrified with himself for showing such a lack of composure to a new acquaintance. He could almost feel the irritation and confusion flowing off of him, despite the fact that Harry had blocked his empathy for the moment.
“Indeed,” seemed to be the only word Malfoy could force out. Though Harry had the ability to cut off his empathy (so that he wasn’t completely overwhelmed in public areas, such as Diagon Alley), there’s was nothing he could do about blocking it if someone touched his skin directly. As a result, he was momentarily bombarded with Malfoy’s emotions, though Harry’s facial expression never wavered to show his momentary discomfort.
Malfoy was currently a confusing mix of embarrassed, annoyed, excited, interested, and lustful. How intriguing…
Harry quickly greeted Mrs. Malfoy with a kiss to the back of her hand.
Harry’s smile was smug as he began plotting the perfect revenge against his refined, blond-haired nemesis of the past. For Blaise’s sake (at least he told himself it was for Blaise’s sake, to prevent causing problems for him within Slytherin), he wouldn’t make it life-threatening or irreparable. He better appreciate the things I do for him, Harry grumbled to himself, while expertly ignoring the slight discomfort that still gripped his heart, as their group continued to chat and get to know each other better before the start of term when all hell was sure to break loose.
At least, it would if Harry had anything to say about it.
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