Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

No Outlet for Anger	By : wherdatcomfrom Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male Views: 5483 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 5
- 6
- 7
AN: So, this has been slow to build, and I hope no one is getting frustrated with me. I'm closing on the real meat of this story, and trying to tie up the support for a relationship between the two leading characters, while not causing too much unnecessary hate for others. Bear with me, okay?
Chapter Six: Darkness and the Nightmares of the Past
It had been three weeks since he had been called to the school and Harry had forgotten about the Malfoys as he was overburdened by his job. His team, consisting of three newer aurors and two seasoned veterans: Harry and John Stebbins, were assigned to follow up abuse cases for limited magic households.
Ron's team was assigned two cases of dark wizards that had been missing since the war and there had been signs of them turning up around muggle London. They had both been so occupied that Hermione had scheduled a dinner for everyone to able to spend time together. Harry and Ginny arrived with Lily and he was still wearing his auror robes.
“Come in, come in.” Hermione said as she ushered them in, glaring at his clothes, but not commenting. “Ron's in the den and Hugo is out back.”
They settled in, sitting around a fire while sharing small talk, as the children played. Harry and Ron avoided shop talk, knowing that their wives would not appreciate it after the efforts they had gone to for this evening.
   Dinner was half over, a delicious broiled chicken with asparagus and wild rice, when they heard a voice calling them to the floo. “Harry! Auror Potter!”
   “Here, Sir.” Harry said to Head Auror Jamus as he dropped in front of the fireplace. “What is it?”
   “We've been monitoring a spike in magic from an address in Wiltshire. Your team is assembled and waiting for you. The discrepancy is significant.”
   “Yes, Sir. I'll be right there.” Harry turned back just as the face withdrew and caught the glare from the women in the room. “I've got to go. I'll make it up to you.” He said and Ginny rolled her eyes.
   “I'll come with you. . . that way you'll be back sooner.” Ron suggested but Harry declined.
   “This is my case, Ron. My team can handle it. I'll be back as soon as I can.” And he turned and headed out the door.
   After apparating to the address Jamus had given him, Harry met up with the others at the door to a low rent apartment. He had been to so many of these lately, that it should not have seemed unusual, but the hairs on the back of his neck were standing on end. Usually, this indicated danger and he would take time to prepare for it.
   His team did not feel his concerns and moved ahead before he was ready, easily passing a lightly warded door and entering the tiny home.
The place was dark, no lights burned, no candles. The aurors lit their wands and moved on. Family pictures briefly glittered to life in the light and Harry stopped short. “Wait!” he called and the group turned to him. He turned his wand to a framed picture, the glass cracked over the smiling face of his son's best friend.
Stebbins squinted at the picture then glared at Harry. “So?” he snapped.
“This is Malfoy's home.” Harry explained.
   “So?” Stebbins repeated.
   “So, I'll take the lead. I don't want to see anyone act too quickly.”
   “What are you talking about? He's using more magic than he's allotted. It's a crime and we're aurors.”
“He's been a law abiding citizen for twelve years, ever since he was released from serving time and he's not gonna throw that away like this.” Harry explained as he made his way forward. “I know him. He'd at least do it in a more devious way, if he was.”
The group followed him into the hall and down to the door at the end, where glittering lights were escaping from under the jam. Harry motioned them to stand back as he approached it. They held their wands at the ready, so he purposefully stood between them and the door, when he opened it.
Inside of the room - a bedroom of sorts, Malfoy slept fitfully on an old cot, like Harry had used in his cupboard days, with a ragged blanket. As he slept, he shivered violently and his lips moved over silent words, his eyelids barely concealed the wild movements of his eyes and his fingers twitched at his sides. It was from these that the sparks flying about the room found their source.
Harry blocked the door as he cast a quick, “Enervate.” and woke the sleeping blond. Malfoy came awake with a start, falling out of the cot onto the floor opposite the door. Harry waited for his reaction and was unnerved when the aristocrat came up on his knees with his head bowed. “Malfoy?”
“I expected this. Have you come to arrest me?” Draco asked.
“For accidental magic? I hardly think that necessary.” But behind him, his team was murmuring and Stebbins spoke up.
“He broke the law, Potter.”
“Not knowingly. Did you know you were using magic in your sleep, Malfoy?”
“I was afraid that I might, but wasn't aware that it had begun.”
“You knew it would?”
“It's the dark. I can't control it in the dark.” when the blond spoke, Harry noted the total helplessness of his voice.
“You wanted lights. That day in the ministry. You asked for magic to relight them.”
“How did you know?” Malfoy quickly looked back down, his voice returning to the bland and dejected sound that ground on Harry's last nerve. “I was denied. The only lights left are in Astoria's room. I tried sleeping in the hall, but the door rejects me and it shut when I put the cot there.”
“You can't go in?” Harry asked.
“I'm barred.” Draco looked so embarrassed the Harry ceased his interview.
“There's no reason to arrest you. I'll speak with Head Auror Jamus in the morning. For tonight, I have a suggestion. You lot go on home. I take full responsibility for this. Malfoy, pack some things. I have a place where you can sleep and there's plenty of light.” Harry's team grumbled, but exited the apartment. Draco rose wearily and took out his work clothes and a few cosmetics. “Pack what you need.” Harry said, transfiguring the blanket into a suitcase. “You won't be back here for a while. At least, not until I find your wife.”
Draco seemed to want to argue, but he had been conditioned to take orders meekly.
The Potter family had moved out of Grimmauld Place when Ginny was pregnant with Albus. James was a toddler and his parents wanted him to grow up in a more cheerful environment. No matter what they tried, Grimmauld could not be made less dark and cheerless.
As they landed on the street in front of it, Harry turned to the blond wizard. “Draco Malfoy, I'd like to invite you to number 12, Grimmauld Place. The hub of the True and Noble House of Black.”
Draco watched the buildings separate, exposing the hidden residence in their midst. “You're the secret keeper?” he asked.
“Yeah, I thought it best. It's my house, now. Sirius left me everything. I've often thought that part of it should be yours . . .”
“No!” Draco snapped. “Everything I've ever inherited was taken. This is yours.”
“Right.” Harry took his arm and lead him forward, up to the door and inside. “Any way, I set it up so that the only way anyone can come here is with me . . by verbal invitation and repeat visits require a special spell. No one comes here by accident. It happened once, during the war, and it had tragic consequences. I don't want it to happen again.”
“All that is fascinating, Potter, but . . .”
“Why did I bring you here? It's unplottable, uninhabited and the Ministry can't set surveillance spells on it. You will virtually disappear here. The only thing is, you still can't use your wand much, but if you know any wandless magic, you have free reign here.”
Draco looked around, his fingers flexing subconsciously. He walked forward and turned at the landing that led to a flight of stairs leading down. “You want me to live here?”
“If you'd like. For now, consider it a safe place to sleep. You can go back to your flat if you want.” Harry suggested.
“No, this is fine. This is more than fine. I'm thrilled, just surprised.”
“Why?” Harry asked.
“Not many people just give their home for some one like me to use.”
“Some one like you? Look, Malfoy. I'm not using it, so it's no great inconvenience to me. There are no houselves, currently, so you'll be on your own for cooking and cleaning. I've seen your home, so I know that's no problem.”
“I'll do my best. I'm not very practiced at wandless magic, though I was pretty good back in school.”
“I could help you. I'm better than I was and I might know some spells you could use. Things that could make life easier.”
“Thank you, Potter. That would be helpful.”
“I'll bring your things up, if you choose a room. I'm not sure if you want to make the trip up and down, but the rooms on the fifth floor are great. The rooms just above this are fine, too.”
“I'm not the spoiled child I was, Potter. I'll take what room is convenient and I can carry my own bags.”
“Oh, don't be a baby. Follow me. I'll show you up, then we can do the spell, so you can come and go as you please.” Harry grabbed the suitcase and pushed on up the stairs.
After Potter left, Draco emptied his case and put his things away. His skin still tingled from the residual effects of the ward adaptation spell. The house was depressing, dark and dusty. He couldn't sleep now, not after all that had happened and it was nearly dawn, so he raised his wand arm and considered a spell. . With trepidation, he aimed it at the parlour and spoke in a barest whisper.
“Modesto Aresta.” his arm moved with the swish and jerk that were often associated with this spell, when using a wand, and then he swirled it around the room.
Magic flowed from him like a dam's floodgate being opened after a heavy rain. The room faded and brightened. The dull browns and maroons became stunning reds an blacks. It would have been shocking had not Draco been hit by a magic rush from the spells trip through his body. He dropped onto the newly refurbished sofa and stared at his hand, breathing quickly.
When he looked up, he found an elegant sitting room, lushly accoutred with stylish furniture and elegant drapes and rugs. The walls were clean and papered in a fine brocade. “Woah! I didn't plan that.”
The amount of magic required to remodel the entire room should have drained him to near exhaustion, but instead he felt vital and energetic, like he had not felt in years. He stood quickly and circled the room, looking at the details that his spell had altered. The ancient stack of papers in one corner was now a pile of current issues to every wizarding periodical available, even the Quibbler was there. The old, ugly knick knacks on the shelves were transformed into vases with fresh flowers and picture frames with moving photos of people Draco vaguely recognized. There was a clock on the mantel that clicked methodically while a cheery fire burned below it.
All-in-all, Draco could not remember a more beautiful room. He returned to the sofa with several magazines and flipped one open. He didn't work today, so a few hours of relaxation couldn't hurt. He read a few articles and nodded off in front of the fire.
Harry returned to Grimmauld Place after work that day. The Minister, as well as Head Auror Jamus had questioned him thoroughly about his 'botched' operation and he needed to get away from anyone who would lean toward negativity about his actions. He figured Malfoy would fit that criteria.
He entered the house and was brought up short by the transformation. He stood frozen in the entrance for a brief time, before he cast a locator charm to find the blond man.
Draco was still in the parlor, nibbling on a tray of crackers that he carefully devoured to the last crumb. He looked up hastily as Harry entered the room, realizing he had eaten all of his snack just as he went to offer some to his 'guest'. “I only had one box left.” He explained looking down at the plate.
“There is food in the kitchen,” Harry offered and Draco turned toward the door. “I guess I didn't explain. The house is fully stocked and fully functional. I see you decorated.”
Again, Draco looked around, seeing his handiwork. He smiled and turned to Potter. “I didn't think you'd mind. The room was so dreary.”
“The room? Malfoy, the house.” Harry gestured out of the door and received a confused response. “Didn't you do it?”
“What? I cast the spell that changed the room. I will do the rest, later. I thought I should conserve my energy. I haven't used much magic for the last twenty years.”
“Malfoy . . . come with me.” The two wizards left the room and wandered down to the lower floor of the house. Draco was stunned by the results of his spell. Everywhere he looked was renewed, refreshed and made beautiful. The entire house, from the dungeon like basement to the roof was redecorated to match the parlor he had cast the spell in.
Once they had reached the kitchen, Harry took out the supplies he needed for tea and Draco took the kettle to the sink to fill it. He looked over the stove, searching for the knob that would ignite the burner.
Harry shook his head and pulled out his wand. “Incendio.” he chanted and the flame burst forth.
The blond looked away and a pink tint filled his cheeks. He put the kettle down to let it heat while Harry prepared the cups and accio'd some biscuits from the cupboard.
“Why do you keep the house stocked?”Draco asked.
Harry looked up from the plate he was arranging the cookies on. “Teddy may want to live here, someday. He comes here for breaks, but doesn't know much about shopping. He'd starve if I didn't.”
“Oh.” Draco picked up a folded towel and delivered the kettle to the table. He poured the water into the pot and returned it to the sink. A quick finite shut off the stove, as well as the lights and fan that turned over their heads. “Sorry.” he said as Harry turned them back on, sans the stove. “I'm still a bit out of practice.”
“How did you manage to stay out of trouble this long?”
“Astoria does all the magic. She would light the lights, when I got permission for them, and I did the rest . . .”
“Like a muggle, or a squib?”
“Yes.”
“And you have lost your control over your powers? Is that how you managed to change the entire house? It must have exhausted you.”
“No. I felt good . . . renewed.”
“Interesting.” Harry poured out two cups and pushed one toward Draco. “Have you tried any other spells?”
“No. I was reading. We didn't get copies of the magazines you have.”
“Magazines? I don't subscribe to anything. What magazines?”
“Witch Weekly, the Prophet, the Quibbler, W.Q., and Potions Digest. They were all in that parlor.”
“Those were old copies that Ginny had from right after the war. We lived here for a few months when we first got married. I told her to get rid of them many times.”
“They were new issues, Potter. I checked the dates. Are you certain no one comes here?”
“Positive. Accio Magazines!” Harry waited and caught the stack that flew his way. As he rifled through them, Draco snagged a few cookies and dipped one into his cup. His mother had admonished him on many occasions for this bad habit, but who would care if he did something uncouth, here? “These are new! How? . . Your spell must have transformed them, as well.”
“That's ridiculous, Potter. Imagine the power it would take to do that! I don't have that much magic.” Draco nearly pushed away his tea and threw down the last of his purloined cookies, but his stomach lurched at the thought.
“How do you know?” Harry put the magazines into a neat stack as he considered his next words. “Would you please send these back? I'd like to keep the place clean.”
Draco popped his last cookie into his mouth and chewed it quickly. He swallowed and cleared his throat, but before he could speak, Harry added.
“Use an organizing spell. Something for basic household management . . . third year, stuff.”
The blond eyed him suspiciously, before he concentrated and spoke the incantation. “Revertus.”
Instantaneously, the magazines disappeared, as well as all of the tea things, the folded towel and the kettle. Their clothing suddenly felt clean and the table top sparkled like it had been polished. “Wow!” Draco gasped.
“Yeah.” Harry concurred. “I think we've made a discovery that will either frighten or excite people.”
Harry and Draco agreed to keep the overflow of magic a secret, until they could find out more about it. If it was restricted to Draco, then that was one thing, but if it was a build up that was happening in all of the restricted pure-bloods, then . . well, that was something else entirely.
Draco would go back to work, keeping to his established routine, while Harry researched a few of his Hogwarts contemporaries. Harry would deliver him and collect him at the end of his shift, in order to keep the blond out of the clutches of aggravated Ministry employees. The last thing they needed was an over enthusiastic auror, or Ron, to follow the Slytherin to Harry's house.
When the auror left, Draco climbed the stairs to the room he had chosen to find it similarly furnished and endowed. The attached bathroom was equipped with an oversized tub and filled with bottles and jars of hair and body potions that were scented like sandalwood, pine and musk. Draco took a long soak before venturing into the bedroom to find his clothes had been replaced by tailored robes and suits, satin shirts and Italian leather shoes. He found silk pajamas that caressed his skin and warm cashmere socks and dressing gowns. Once dressed he slipped under the bedding of pure Irish linen, flannel and down, and drifted off into a dreamless slumber.
In the morning, he firecalled Potter to ask him to collect some of the remaining clothes from his flat, so that his arrival at his job would not be noteworthy. He found himself face-to-face with a small version of the Weasley girl, who smiled blithely at him. “Hello. Are you a friend of my Daddy's?”
“A friend? More like an associate. Is he there?”
“I'll get him. Please, wait.” the red-haired girl skipped away and returned with Potter. “Here's Daddy. Mr. . . what's your name?”
“Draco Malfoy.” he answered and the girl grinned.
“It's Albus' friend's father, Daddy. Have a good day, Mr. Malfoy.” and she skipped off again.
“Lily seems to like you, Malfoy. What's the problem?”
“The refurbishing spell decided to include my clothes. If I go to work wearing them, I'll be questioned about how I could afford them.”
“That's a problem. What can I do?”
“I left one change at my flat. The clothes are threadbare, but at least they don't look like I've spent a year's wages on them.”
“I'll swing by and collect them on my way. Don't worry. I'll leave early, so you'll have time to change.”
“Good, because I'm hesitant to try magic.”
“You need to use magic, to try to release the overload. I think that's the problem, but I agree about the clothes. Don't try to magic them on, or it may cover you in every piece of clothing within a block.”
Draco felt chills at this thought and closed the floo. Harry chuckled as he turned away. He stood and found Ginny glaring at him from the doorway. Her arms crossed at her chest. “That was Malfoy. What was he calling you for?”
“That case, the other night? It was Malfoy. He wasn't breaking the law. It was accidental magic. He hasn't used magic for almost twenty years and it was escaping during his dreams. His wife is missing and he's in danger of being put in prison. If that happens, his son will be put into Care Camp.”
“That's not your responsibility, Harry! If he's breaking the law, even by accident, then he needs to be arrested and that's your job.”
“I checked the law, it says 'knowingly' using excessive amounts of magic. Even the current Ministry cannot punish someone for accidental magic, otherwise, we'd be arresting toddlers.”
“That's ridiculous.” Ginny growled in frustration and dropped into a chair. “So, you aren't arresting him, but why is he calling you?”
“I'm escorting him to work this morning. He just needed me to be early.” Harry rushed to peck her cheek and grabbed his robe from a hook by the door. “And I need to hurry, if I'm to do that.”
“Harry . . .” Ginny tried, but he was gone.
“Mummy? That man seemed very nice. He was polite and smiled. He was very handsome, too. I don't think he could be an evil-pure-blooded-death-eater-scum. Are you sure you understand that title?”
“What? . . Lily, get ready for school I'll drop you at Grandma's before I go to practice. And no more talking about Malfoy, do you understand? The last thing you need to do is anger your grandparents.” Ginny returned to their room to collect up her practice bag. She wouldn't let Malfoy upset her family's schedule any more than he already had.
Escorting Malfoy to work lasted for over three weeks before new problems arose. Harry had become familiar with several of the scribes, joking with them and asking about their families. After he had gone, Loggins called Draco into his office and asked him in a gruff voice, “What have you been telling the aurors about me?”
“Sir?” Draco asked.
“Why are they investigating me?” the man snapped, grabbing Draco's shirt front and shaking him until the thin fabric tore.
“The aurors aren't investigating you, that I know of, Sir. Auror Potter only comes here to assure that I am here, on time, without being harassed on my way.”
“Harry Potter? Why would he be interested in you? Have you been about unlawful acts? I'll not have you involving my place in any of that. Pack your things. You're fired!” and Loggins turned away and ignored Draco. A more clear dismissal he had not experienced since his time in the mines.
It was nearly noon before Draco arrived back at Number 12, but he was so despondent that he could not bring himself to make a meal. He had bought the latest copies of the Prophet and the Diagon Alley Gazette, hoping to find a new position in their advertizements. When he found none, he leaned against the side of the divan and stared at the cold fireplace. This was where he remained until he drifted off to sleep.
Harry read the note again, memorizing it before he cast incendio and destroyed it. He rose and headed to the lifts. He had time, since it was nearly lunch and he could tell Stebbins that he was going early to get a good table. The other auror nodded as he passed, accepted his excuse and looked back to his own bag of lunch longingly.
Percy's message did not give details, but the urgency was obvious, even to Harry.
Found someone with information. Go to the last house outside of Hogsmeade.
Meet her there.
Harry apparated the minute he exited the Hog's Head bar. The wreckage of this part of Hogsmeade had never been scheduled for repairs and once the few bodies had been removed, the wards were dropped and the area abandoned. Harry had to climb over a fallen wall to get to into the building where he was meeting his contact.
Beyond the door, Harry found a sparkling clean kitchen with candles burning in the wall scones and a tray of tea and cakes on the table. Briarly Fletcher leaned against the wall. “I trust you will keep this a secret, or I wouldn't have invited you here.”
“What is this?”
“My secret. No one else, not even the other unspeakables, know about this house.”
“But, how?”
Briarly looked around with a soft scowl. “My parents owned the house. They died in the battle that came before Voldemort went to Hogwarts, helping to evacuate the students and some of the less helpful townsfolk. As the only remaining member of my family, I decided not to rebuild. I've filed to have it made a memorial to the war.”
“And this room?”
“A pocket of wizard space. When the house fell, it was protected. Everything here is just as it was when my mother made my father breakfast that morning.”
“How has it not been discovered?”
“Tracking charm. Every time someone finds it, I obliviate them.”
“Okay. I understand. So, what news do you have for me?”
“Astoria Malfoy is very much alive. She's alive and well, at least, for now. Keep Malfoy quiet, or that might change.”
“Where is she?”
“Unspeakable safe house. They cured her of the basillisk flu and are building her stamina. I think they are planning on using her for some experiment. I don't think she'll survive that.”
“How do I get her out?”
“You don't. I'll contact you when they bring her back to the ministry.”
“Why are you taking these risks, Briarly?” Harry leaned back and watched her. “This goes way beyond your debt?”
“It's a life debt!” She snapped. “I take those seriously.”
“You and every other pure-blood that owes me, but you're risking an awful lot, and it's not even me you're saving,"
“It's important to you, and saving a life for Malfoy's wife will count as a partial payment. I can't let you risk yourself, or that would double my debt. As an unspeakable, I've got a lot more leverage than you with the administration of that department. Why do you think I took this job? THEY wanted to give me something, some token to appease me, when my parents died, when I nearly died because of the trials, but I wasn't going to take a tidbit, like that. I chose this job because it would put me in a position to pay back some of those debts. This one to you, maybe the one to Weasley, later, and to Longbottom, one day. I'll do what I have to.”
“Okay, so you'll call me? I'll just have to wait. Don't worry about Draco, he barely raises his voice these days. It was only accidental magic that got him in trouble this last time.”
“Well, don't let it happen again. If we get her out, he'll need to be fit to care for her. He can't do that from Azkaban.” Briarly sneered the name of the prison and Harry knew she was remembering how close she had come to it.
“Right. Well, I gotta go. I can only claim I was at lunch for a certain amount of time. I'll be waiting for your call. Don't hesitate to send something directly to me, but ward it for my eyes only. Good luck, Briarly.” and he rose to go. Briarly sat down at the table and moved the tea things only the barest bit.
Harry was in a state when he arrived to pick Malfoy up and found he had been sent off. He rushed to the blond's flat, checked some known places of pure-bloods, then returned to Grimmauld Place with little hope of finding the Slytherin. He walked into the parlor only to find Draco curled up on the couch, shivering of the cold, in his threadbare clothes.
Though he quickly lit the fire and covered his guest with a quilt, Malfoy was soon feverish and Harry called in another old debt. “Can you come through?” he asked the wizard that glared at him through the fire.
“I'll get my bag. This better be important, Potter.” Healer Peakes said as he stepped away a from the flames and the fire went out. Jimmie Peakes stepped through with his robes billowing in an amazing Snape imitation. “Where is the patient?” he asked.
Peakes was tall, over two meters, and long like a pole. He kept his hair short, mostly because it curled so badly he thought it would make him look immature. Harry thought it gave him a match stick image and his temper was just as volatile. He owed Harry for keeping him from nearly killing a disoriented patient that would not sit still for an examination. Peakes had been under the care of mind-healers and had almost gained control of his temper, since.
“Upstairs.” Harry led the way, knowing that Peakes would keep his mouth closed about Malfoy, and that this odd healer was also one of the most talented on St. Mungo's staff. Surprisingly, he had even received a boost by being one of Snape's special projects from his first year through the reported death of the potions master.
Harry had taken Draco to his room and stripped him of his rags. He was bathed in sweat and the silk pajamas stuck to his skin wherever they touched it. Peakes pulled back the covers and began casting diagnostic spells while Harry was disgusted anew by the state of Malfoy's body.
“He's severely malnourished and will take months of nutrient potions. The fever is mild, but in his condition, it could kill him. Keep him warm, even if he seems too hot. Keep the fire burning and change his bedding every six to eight hours. Refreshing charms aren't enough. Wash them, the muggle way, and dry them in the open air if possible. I'll bring you enough potions to get him over this, and start him toward health, but you'll need to contract a master brewer for the rest. How did he end up like this?”
“He's a pure-blood.” Harry stated and Peakes nodded. “How long before he'll be up and about? I'll need to make arrangements to care for him.”
“About a week. Potter, I assume this is a 'special case' so I won't ask questions, but if you are going to care for him, you'll need to stay here. Will your family understand?”
“They'll have to. Thanks, Jimmie. Send me the bill. I'll pay it.” Harry didn't look up as Healer Peakes put various bottles on the nightstand.
“The blue potion is for fevers. Two spoonfuls every four hours. The lavender is for sleep. Give it to him when you need some. Set an alarm for four hours, then take the red yourself. Sleep will refresh you like it was ten. The green is the nutrients. One bottle per day. There are sixteen, that's all I have.”
“Blue, lavender, red and green. I got it.” Harry said.
“I'll come back in a week. Call me if anything odd occurs. Harry?” at this the auror looked up. It was unusual for Jimmie to call him by his given name. “He must be special.”
“He's my worst enemy. My only rival. Of course, he's special.” Harry said, then turned back to Draco. Jimmie saw himself out and no more words passed between them.
Harry spelled away the soiled bedding and replaced it while he held the blond against his shoulder. He forced two spoons of blue potion between the clenched lips of the pure-blood's mouth and watched his throat work the liquid down. When Draco was settled in, he refreshed the fire and set an alarm to remind him for the next dose of potion. He would hold off on the nutrient potion until he could give his patient something tasty to wash it down with. He had swallowed enough of these over the years to know they were foul.
When he had the bedding clean and folded for the next changing, he detoured through the library and found some books to use for passing the time. He had sent Ginny a note to tell her he would be away for a few days. This was hardly unusual, so he knew she would not be concerned. He firecalled Head Auror Jamus to call off for the same time, explaining that he was tending a sick friend.
Auror Jamus had winked slyly and nodded. Jumping to the conclusion Harry had expected, and not planned to enlighten him about. The man was a notorious pervert, and if it kept him from calling Harry's home and upsetting his family, Harry didn't care what he thought.
He settled into a comfortable arm chair in Malfoy's room and opened a book.
Scorpius thrashed about and cried out, entangling himself like a caterpillar in a cocoon before Albus could get to him.
“It's just a dream, Scorpius. Wake up, please. It's me, Albus Potter. Wake up, okay?”
The blond stopped thrashing and his cries turned to whimpers. He shivered and Albus noticed how hot his skin felt. He grabbed a pillow and threw it to where Nate slept. He came awake with a shout. “Hey!”
“We need help. Go call Professor Montague! Scorpius is sick!”
Nate rushed from the dorm and down to the common room. Their Head of House was only a firecall away and had trained them personally on how to go about contacting him.
The professor breezed in behind the other first year boy and brushed Albus aside. “How long has he been like this?”
“I don't know. He was fine when we went to bed, but he started moaning and shouting a bit ago. He has bad dreams, sometimes.”
“Well, I'd take him to hospital, but he will do better under private care. Go back to bed. I will take him with me.”
Montague wrapped Scorpius in his blanket ad levitated him from his bed. He took the boy in his arms and cradled him through the room and out of the dorms.
Albus and Nate sat together on their friend's bed and stared at the closed door. “What do you think is wrong with him?” Nate asked.
“I don't know. He looked bad. I bet the professor won't take him to hospital because of the rivalry. If the mediwitch is against us, too, that's real bad.”
“But, she couldn't. I mean, we're just kids. A mediwitch is supposed to care about kids.”
Harry was coming in from his yard where the last load of bedding hung from his own magic version of a clothesline, when his floo flared and he was called to it. “Auror? Auror Potter? Are you there?”
Harry knelt down, looking into the flames and recognizing the face of the current potions professor. “Montague? What's wrong? Is it Albus?”
“No. I'm afraid it's Scorpius Malfoy.” Harry's heart dropped. The family did not need any more bad news. “He's exhibiting symptoms of a fever and delirium, but there's a complication.”
“Tell me!” Harry shouted. “I mean, why did you call me?”
“Actually, I was trying to contact his father, and I know you are in touch with him. He's not answering at his home.”
“He's here, but he can't come to the floo. Please, Professor. Tell me, and I'll relay it to Malfoy.”
“Perhaps we should speak in person. Can you come through? This is my personal apartments, so the floo is open for you.”
“I . . .I really can't. Why don't you come here?”
“Because, the boy is under my care.”
“He's not in hospital?”
“No. I thought it best.”
“Could you bring him here. If you could, I might be able to arrange a healer.”
“I will. I'll need a bit to ready him. I'll come through in one hour.” Harry nodded and watched the man disappear. He hoped Jimmie Peakes would forgive his interruption of the man's life, again.
“Healer Peakes, St. Mungo's.” he waited until the man's face appeared before him.
“Is there a problem, Auror?”
“Yes. You said to call you if something unusual happened. I'm doing that.”
“What has happened?”
“His son, at Hogwarts. He's a first year, and he's come down with similar symptoms.”
“What does Madam Maclaggen say.”
“Jimmie, he's a Slytherin.”
“Oh, yes. What do you want me to do?”
“The head of Slytherin is bringing the boy here, in one hour.”
“I'll be there.” Jimmie closed the connection and Harry sighed. He heard his alarm go off and rushed up the stairs to Draco's room. It had only been two days and he was exhausted.
Healer Peakes pulled the covers over the boy and put away his things. He stood and turned to the two men, leading them away from the sleeping youth. When they were in the kitchen and Harry had given him a cup of tea, just the way that Jimmie liked it, he spoke. “There's nothing wrong with the boy.”
“What?” Harry reacted first, but Montague's glare set the healer to speaking again.
“Nothing, except a burgeoning empathic ability. He's sick, because of his father's illness. The best treatment, is to dose him with calming draughts, or dreamless sleep potions and let him sleep until the father is healed. He will recover, and be fine. He doesn't even know what is happening to him, so he can't speak about it. Take him to the school, the proximity may increase his reaction, but I'm not sure if it will. Empaths are extremely rare, even in our world. I hope he doesn't decide to become a healer, it could cause him to implode, literally.”
“Thank you, Healer. I'm in your debt.” Montague said and the younger man smirked.
“Tell you what, you're a potions master. You brew the potions that Harry needs for the boy's father, and I'll consider myself paid. Harry and I have an agreement, and this helps me to keep my part of it. Here's what he needs.” he pulled out a small pad of parchment and a medical quill that wrote his instructions in clear script, which he handed to Montague. “I gotta get back. There's a witch due in that likes to torture me by calling me her favorite doctor. I hate the hag, and the worst part is, there's nothing wrong with her. She's not even an empath, just a hypochondriac. See ya at the end of the week, Potter. Take care of our patient.” and Jimmie downed his tea and left the two men.
“These are strong potions, Potter. What's wrong with the man?”
“He's a pure-blood, who can't catch a break. He's been working like mad for years to overcome the stain that is on his name and be a good citizen, just so his son can have a better life. He's tired, poor and unlucky.” Harry sighed as he led the man to Scorpius so they could take him back to the school.
“I think you're wrong.” Montague said as he stood in the ornate Black fireplace. “I think he's found himself a good luck charm and things will turn around, soon. Good day to you, Auror Potter. Hogwarts, Potions Professor quarters.” and Harry was alone again, with his charge. Before he went back upstairs, he noticed an open letter on the desk in the parlor. It was from the boy to his father, and Harry skimmed it, not meaning to pry into Malfoy's business, but his son's name was smudged and caught his eye.
Father,
Albus Potter and I were speaking with some of the other children in our dorms. The subject of house elves came up and I was wondering if you could shed some light on the topic. Did you and Grandmother not have elves that were bound to you when the war ended? What became of them, if you did?
One of the girls here said that their elves were bound to the family and could not be taken from them when they were stripped of their worldly goods. I wondered why your elves did not do the same, protecting you and Grandmother from the hardships of life after the war.
If this is too personal to discuss over such correspondence as owls, I would like to have a firecall from you. Professor Montague has allowed us any communications of this sort that we require. Please inform me when we might speak.
Your loving son,
Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy
Harry put the letter back, thinking that the boy's question had definite merit. Now, he had another riddle to solve. The play on words was not lost on him, but he did not have time to even sigh at the thought.
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