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
- 6
- 7
- 8
Author's Note: Look. I posted a chapter. During school. Be proud, be happy, don't get too used to it. Love you all.
Chapter Seven: Healing, Runes and Elves
After four days of watching Malfoy, Harry was dozing in the chair by his bed waiting for the alarm to wake him. He had gotten into a routine, dosing the blond with potions, changing the bedding and bathing his charge. Time ticked away and only his auror training kept him from going crazy.
Around four in the afternoon, a sound brought him immediately awake and onto his feet. He left the room and went to the landing, looking down the stairs to the couple standing in his entry. “Bill? Fleur? What are you doing here?”
“We could ask you the same thing, Harry.” Bill began.
“It iz hiz ouse, Bill.” Fleur injected.
“Sorry. You're right, Darling. We were going to look for a spell in the library. Fleur is certain that it will be in the Black books.”
“A spell for what, if I may ask?” Harry began leading the way to the room filled with the bulk of his inherited library. He had gathered all of them from the other properties, before he had sold the excessive houses and closed off some of the others. He currently held only four, besides Grimmauld Place and the home he shared with Ginny just outside of Ottery St. Catchpole, near her family.
“Well, it's really more of a potion, and we know you have never been much interested in potions.” Bill hedged.
“Okay, I get it. Mind my own business. I won't even offer to help.” Harry chuckled.
In order to change the subject, Fleur said, “I had no idea you were planning to redecorate, Arry.”
The auror looked around and his mouth opened and closed a few times before he managed, “It was a surprise to me, too.”
Bill stared and Fleur laughed. “We get eet, Arry. Mind our own biznez.”
“Help yourself to the library. If you need help, I'll be upstairs.”
“Will do.” Bill said following his wife down the hall. Harry waited until they were out of sight to go down to the kitchen and gather up a tray full of tea things. He carried it up the stairs and set it next to the bed.
Draco stirred slightly as Harry poured the tea and added cream and sugar to one. The spoon tapped the china, making a clear tinkling sound. The blond's eyes opened and Harry found himself the recipient of an intense stare.
“Potter?” Draco said and Harry left the tea to help him sit up. “What are you doing here?”
“You were running a fever. Healer Peakes says your overall condition was causing it to escalate. You're to stay in bed and take your potions.”
“I have to go find another job.” Draco said and his words brought on a hacking cough that doubled him over on the bed.
“You'll stay there until you're well enough. You can't very well start a new job in this condition.”
“But, I'll get behind in my payments to Hogwarts. They'll suspend Scorpius.”
“I'll talk to the headmistress.” Harry said pushing the blond back onto the pillows.
“You'll . . .” Draco began but his eyes were unfocussed and Harry lifted the cup of tea to his lips.
“Drink some of this, then I'll give your your potions.” Draco drank and Harry held the cup as steady as he could. When the blond leaned back, he put it aside and handed Draco a napkin. “This is a nutrient potion. I don't know if you have any other experience with it, but it tastes like sour hippogryph dung. It was the hardest to get you to take, up until now.”
Draco took the bottle and sipped the potion. He pulled a face, “It might still be.”
“Just drink it and you can rinse the taste away with tea. I checked with the healer and it won't effect the potency. After you finish that, I have three others. They must taste better, cause you've taken them easily for the last four days.”
“Four days? I've been asleep for four days? Oh, no!”
“I talked to someone. Someone who knows the secrets of the unspeakables and doesn't approve of pure-blood bullying. She's agreed to help me find your wife.”
“Astoria . .”
“We believe that she is still alive. We'll do our best to find her and get her out. You need to concentrate on getting well so that you can take care of her when we do.” Potter rose and went to the door. “Take your potions and finish your tea. I'll come back with some food.”
He left the blond and went to check on his brother-in-law in the library.
Bill and Fleur were huddled together over a corner table with several open books in front of them. Harry could only catch a few English words injected into their conversation, since Fleur was fluent in French and Bill could hold his own in a broken form of it.
The words 'Veela', 'Heredity', and 'Counteract' came through clearly and Harry didn't want to intrude, so he backed out and returned to the kitchen to prepare lunch. Before he was halfway down the hall, he turned and called out, "Bill, would you and Fleur like some lunch, or tea, perhaps?"
Bill came through the door in seconds, his demeanor flustered. "Lunch would be nice, but don't put yourself out, Harry."
"No problem. I'm just making some soup and sandwiches. I don't do much more, and without Kreacher, that's the extent of it around here."
"Sorry. I always forget that you lost your elf."
"He was old. Besides, I didn't grow up with one, so I never got used to him. He was nearly useless at the end. I'll leave yours on the table."
Harry turned around and continued on. He left a plate of sandwiches and two bowls of Minestrone on the table with the appropriate charms, as well as two bottles of pumpkin juice and two clean cups, then he took a tray with the same and returned up the stairs.
Bill and Fleur were just exiting the library, with a roll of parchment and several sheets of paper, when Harry reached the landing and they called out.
"Sank you, again, Arry."
"Yeah, thanks."
"No problem. Your lunch is down in the kitchen. I'll talk to you later, okay?"
"Yeah . . . sure." Bill looked about to say more, but the look on Harry's face warned him off. "C'mon dear. Let's eat and go buy some ingredients."
Harry was on his way up the stairs and didn't hear any more of their conversation.
Bill followed his wife into the kitchen and sat across from her. The knowing look on her face stopped his internal musing. "What?"
"I sink Arry may have a lover."
"No! He wouldn't do that to Ginny." Bill insisted.
"And if she had a lover, too?" The shocked look he returned her caused Fleur to put down the sandwich she had just picked up. "You did not know?"
"My baby sister's extra marital activities are not a topic of discussion among my brothers and I."
"Don't be angry, Bill. She told me about it on my birthday. She felt guilty and afraid, and was not comfortable with speaking to Ermine. I do not think it eez something she does regularly."
"Well, as long as it's not regular." he snorted.
"She was lonely and Arry was working a deeficult case. Away for long times."
"I'm away a lot, . . . are . . ."
"Bill. We are speaking of Ginny and Arry. I am not lonely and you are home with me as much as you can." She put a hand on his, rubbing her thumb across his knuckles. "I am a very happy women, Bill Weazley."
"Are you sure?" Bill had been staring at her hand, but now he looked up and caught her eyes. Her smile was soft and warm, a smile that told him he was still the man she desired.
"Would I have suggested zee ritual if I 'ad any doubts?"
"Probably not." his face flushed with embarrassment.
"We should eat zis food your brother-in-law made for us, and geet back to the cottage. We 'ave preparations to make."
She dove into the soup as Bill reached for a sandwich and they kept their eyes locked as they ate.
Montague was relieved when the house elf came to his office and told him that Scorpius was awake. He visited the boy before allowing his classmates to see him. Albus and Nate spent an entire free period with him before they had to go to Transfigurations with the Hufflepuffs.
“Professor Montague said that I'm an empath. I guess that's good. It felt like he was apologizing for it, though.”
“I think I understand.” Nate spoke slowly, as if carefully measuring his words to convey his meaning. “It can't be great to be able to feel everything that someone else feels, cause you got to feel what you're feeling at the same time. That's a lot of feeling. And if that person is really sad, or tired, or hurt, that would be terrible.”
“But, if someone is happy, or felt good, then it would be great.” Albus corrected him. “Especially, if you didn't feel so happy. Right?”
“I guess.” Nate didn't sound convinced.
“I think you just need to stay away from unhappy, unhealthy people. Also, people who make you feel bad. So, we'll just have to skip all classes with . . . other students in them.” Albus was pleased when both his friends laughed at his joke. He wasn't blind to the downfalls of his friends condition, but he vowed not to add to its bad effects.
The face in the fireplace showed age, some wrinkles around the eyes that told of a healthy sense of humor, and a bit more forehead than when they were in school together, but Harry smiled in genuine friendship and Ernie smiled back. “What's the occasion, Potter?”
“Nothing much. Just routine. How many barrels of Hippogryph dung have you exported this month?”
“Only two, so stop harassing our customers. You know that was an accident. Someone slipped a coupl'a zeros onto that order.”
Harry laughed and Ernie's scowl transformed back to the good-natured fellow he was. “Are you still looking for someone to translate runes for you?”
“Are we? You know someone?”
“Just the student with the best grades in runes for our year.”
“Okay, now you're just tormenting me. I already know Hermione isn't looking for work and the only one who was better than her was Malfoy.”
“But, are you interested and what can you offer?”
“Wait. You're talking about Malfoy? You can get us the Draco Malfoy?” Ernie disappeared and another face appeared in his place.
“I've heard MacMillan talk about this guy. Is he really as good as this idiot says?” Tristan Harbridge was a late-comer to magic, having been raised in India and only returning to England in the last five years. He had been trained by mystic monks and was a bit odd at times, but he had willingly traded spells with most of the Hogwarts graduates and caught on quickly when it came to transfiguration and charms. His skills shied away from defense spells and potions, but Ernie more than made up for that and their business was quite successful.
“Better. He might be a bit out of practice, but I'm certain he can pick it up quickly, once given a chance. I'll broach the subject and as soon as he's well again, then he'll call you back.” Harry moved away when Tristan's head started bobbing.
As soon as the connection was closed, Harry rushed to the library and began to hunt for books. He found three, all ancient looking, heavy, leather bound volumes, and stacked them to carry up the stairs. Once there, after banishing the dust from the covers, he put them on the chair beside Draco's bed and stood back looking smug.
The blond eyed them, glanced up at Harry, then crossed his arms on his chest and raised an eyebrow. “What are these?”
“The first, could you read me the title?” Harry said settling on the bed nearby.
Draco lifted the tome, turned it to view the binding, and read its script. The runes were basic, nothing too advanced for his experience. “The Complete Works of J. Levi Comstock. Is this significant?”
“Read me the first line of chapter three.” Harry ignored his question and Draco flipped the book open. Here were more difficult wordings, some runes he had not seen for ages, even rare in the class he had taken. He glanced up at Potter, then read, “Here lie the secrets that grant magical strength to even the least accomplished wizard.” Draco looked up from the page, his eyebrow lifted and his eyes direct. “What is this about?”
“The next book, please. Title, chapter four, first potion.” Harry directed.
Draco tossed the current book toward the auror and lifted the next into his lap. He flipped it until he could examine the runes, glared at Potter, when he realized these were even more advanced, then snapped out. “Potions for Advanced Healing. Chapter four, yes?” Harry nodded and Draco searched out the requested pages. “Necromantilla? What are you planning, Potter?”
“Just one more.” Harry pointed at the last book and Draco grabbed it and stacked it on the other. “Chapter sixteen, this time. Just the chapter title.”
Draco noted that the title was Arabic, so he searched out the page. “Really, Potter. Advanced Runes?” When he found the page, he looked up and his eyes were wider than Harry had ever seen them. “When Runes Describe Dangers, Peril and Cursed Items. Harry Bloody Potter, I'll need an explanation. Now.”
“I needed to see if you could still read them. I chose books that we've already read, so that I would know if you were just guessing. Hermione had difficulty with that last one. She read it as Dangers, Death and Curses. I knew you could do it.”
“And why would I need to read these books? Why would you, for that matter?”
“Oh, the potion was to try to save Snape. The last was for the . . . hunt we were on. The first was because of a squib we know. You were the best. Professor Babbling said so. Best she had taught in a generation. I've found you a new job.”
“A Job! Potter, how? Why?” Draco tried to rise from the bed, but Harry gently pushed his shoulders until he sat against the pillows again. “Thank you, of course.”
“I talked to Ernie MacMillan. I don't know if you remember him.”
“Hufflepuff. Our year.” Draco injected.
“Yeah. He works with a fellow named Harbridge. He's our age, but wasn't at Hogwarts. I'd say he would be a toss-up between Ravenclaw and Slytherin, if he went to the hat. They do salvage. Buy up old houses, mostly destroyed during the war, and restore them, as well as gut the contents. They come across a lot of runes. So far, they've been relying on old books for the bulk, and then bringing the difficult ones to other experts, who charge a lot to decipher, but on occasion, they've been referred to the Ministry, who in turn shuts down the salvage and confiscates. They want someone to read the runes, so they can avoid turn-coats and Ministry interference. It's all legal, for the rune reader. If the Ministry doesn't like it, that's on Ernie and Tris.”
“That's a very challenging position, Potter. It's not magical, so I could do it with the restrictions, but no one would give an ex-death eater a job like that.”
“Ernie and Tris are desperate, and they want you. They both know what you're capable of. I told you, you're famous in rune circles.” Draco looked thoughtful, as Harry collected the books and put them on the nightstand. “I'll leave these here, if you like. You could read some more. Re-acquaint yourself with the runes.”
Draco nodded and Harry returned to his seat, his feet fidgeting on the floor in front of him. “What else is on your mind, Potter?”
“I did want to ask you something. I know it's none of my business, and I shouldn't have read your mail, but about your son's letter. Tell me about the elves.”
Draco looked over toward the desk where he would normally leave his son's correspondence. He took a breath, balled up his fists and let it out. “You're right, it's not your business, but that hardly matters since you've done so much for me. We had elves. They disappeared. I don't know what happened, since I was taken into custody before my parents. I was downstairs, they were up, you see. The aurors collected us as they found us. Astoria's family got away, elves and all. She's tried calling them, but they don't come. I've tried calling ours and got the same response.”
“So, your mother might know?”
“I suppose. I never thought to ask. I can't believe she would let us suffer, if there was a way to alleviate it.”
“Okay. Enough talk. You should rest. I'll be back with dinner and your potions. Get some sleep, Malfoy.” Harry put a timer spell on the lights and left the blond to settle in the bed. He didn't see Draco pick up one of the books and begin to read.

The manor house looked the same from the gate, but as Harry walked down the path he could see the changes that had tainted the structure. Obviously, the stupid white birds were gone, and good for them. Harry hoped they had been given a more suitable home. The paths were shabby, with grass growing over the white pebbles and the edges all off kilter. The plants were overgrown, or pulled out savagely, and there were no flowers in sight.
As for the house itself, the paint was dull and patchy, sorely in need of a touch up, but the moldings and pillars seemed sound. The house was sad looking, but not in danger of collapse. So, Harry moved forward and up the steps to the entrance.
The door opened to his knock and he found himself face-to-face with a sour looking, portly man with little-to-no hair on his head, but massive amounts across his brow and coming out of his ears. “What you want?” the fellow snapped.
“I've come to speak with Mrs. Narcissa Malfoy.” Harry responded curtly, with his full auror demeanor coming to his face. The man scowled and snorted, but showed Harry to a sitting room and went to fetch the woman in question.
“Mr. Potter?” Narcissa greeted him. “Thank you, Mr. Grimsby. We'll be fine in here.” she dismissed the little bald man. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?”
“I've come to tell you that Draco is ill.” Harry informed her, taking note of her faded robes and thin, ghastly looking footwear. He was sure she was making due with what little the Ministry had left her of her wardrobe.
“Has he been cursed?”
It was an odd conclusion for most, but Harry didn't find it so in this incident. “No, he's just ill. He's staying . . . . someplace safe. I've spoken with Headmistress McGonagall and she's agreed to waive the tuition until he can get back on his feet, so your grandson is safe at the school, for now.”
“I'd like to see my son, if I may.”
“I think it can be arranged. I'd have to take you there, but first I wanted to ask you about something. Can we take a walk?”
Narcissa inclined her head and rose from the worn old divan, leading him to the room's French windows. “The gardens are hardly at their most glorious, but a little fresh air might be nice.”
The view was ghastly, thorn bushes had overgrown the hedge maze and the rose bushes had some sort of blight, but the elegant woman next to Harry carried herself as if she was meandering through a palace gardens in the height of bloom. They found their way to an alcove in the hedge where some ornate lawn furniture remained. Harry waited while the lady took a seat, casting a cleaning charm on the chair for her, then he sat opposite.
“Where is Draco?” She grilled with more intensity than he had ever seen from her. Even during her trial she had not shown this level of emotion.
“He's at my house. Well, one of my houses. I'm not using it, so I thought it would be a good place for him to stay. His flat was . . . .”
“Ghastly, that's what it was. And where is his wife?”
“I'm looking for her. Look, I'll take you to him, but I needed to ask about your elves.”
“Elves? What is all this about elves?”
“You had elves when the Ministry took you into custody. Where are they? Why haven't they helped you?”
“If we had elves, do you really think the Ministry would have left us with them?”
Harry didn't want to call her a liar, especially when he needed information that only she could provide, so he took a few breaths and continued. “I don't believe the Ministry can take away your elves, or deprive you of them, so I'll ask again. Where are your elves?”
“You are far too bright, Mr. Potter. There are many who believe that you relied on your muggleborn friend to do all your thinking for you, but they would do well not to underestimate you, I think. Yes, we still have elves, and they are devoted to us, but my husband and I have ordered them to stay in hiding, to only do what minimal things they can for us, until we order them to do otherwise.” She looked around at her garden and sighed. “They spend most of their time at other locations. Locations . . . that are secret to our enemies.”
“I see. But, why not have them here, let them make your life better?”
“Mr. Potter, do you know much about ancient property laws?”
“No, I don't. I admit it isn't something I've looked into.”
“As the owner of such a property, you might do well to. Now, will you take me to my son?”
Harry was less than satisfied, but he didn't want to press the woman. He rose and put a arm out to escort her. “Certainly. Let's go to the gate and I'll apparate us.”

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No Outlet for Anger