Beneath Boundless Skies, part three
Jun. 27th, 2008 03:03 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
blamebramptonPart one
Part two
The first few days did not go too badly. Classes were shorter and more focussed than their Hogwarts equivalents. Harry was seated with Malfoy for Potions, Charms, Defence and Transfiguration, and with Hannah for Herbology.
Their classmates were pleasant, but somewhat aloof. Harry suspected this had a lot to do with their introduction at the ARQ game, Jon had gathered as many of the NEWTs students together as he could, and brought them to meet the two new students.
“Be nice,” he’d instructed. “They’re Hannah’s old mates, so she’ll thump you if you give them too much shit. Snowy here is Draco Malfoy, he’s going to be after your top spot in Potions, Narelle, so start poisoning his breakfast with something innocuous if you don’t want to pick up your study. Other bloke’s Harry Potter, comes highly recommended in Defence Against the Dark Arts, and a bit of a mean Seeker.”
There was a long pause among the students. “The Harry Potter?” one of them asked at last.
“S’pose.” Harry shrugged.
“Yeah, OK, good to meet you,” the student had said.
Since then it had been smiles, and polite chatting, and sudden quietnesses when he entered rooms. There was no malice, just distance. Maybe it had been because he and Malfoy both found the fast-paced Snitch-less game dull compared to Quidditch, though they did appreciate the tight uniforms.
It was hardly surprising he ended up spending more time with Malfoy. At dinner on the first night they had formed their arrangement.
“You are naturally rubbish at Potions,” Malfoy had declared. “I have no idea how you fluked things last year, but I do know that you need Potions to be an Auror. And some Healing Charms wouldn’t hurt. So, I have a theory. I help you with Potions and Charms, you do the cooking.”
Harry shrugged. “I can always just go to Jon and Amanda for tutoring.”
“But,” Malfoy argued, “they will be teaching you the courses they know, whereas I know what you know, so you’ll learn faster from me.”
Harry looked at him appraisingly. “I’ll swap you help in Charms and Potions for help in Defence and Transfiguration, and I’ll swap you cooking for laundry.”
“I am not doing your laundry, Potter.”
“I was going to suggest that you should take it down to the laundromat on Mawson.”
Malfoy considered the offer. “Deal,” he agreed.
It was day five before their first spat. Naturally, it was Malfoy’s fault.
“How was I to know?” Malfoy shouted at him.
“You could have asked!” Harry yelled back, chasing as Malfoy ran out into the courtyard. “It would have taken you all of three seconds!”
“No one in their right mind would still be wearing those rags, it never occurred to me they might be clothes!”
Harry gave up on argument and resorted to tackling. Which could have ended badly had it not been for the pool.
Malfoy was laughing by the time he broke the water’s surface, Harry spluttering beside him. “You are such a …”
Harry never heard the insult, as he was under water again by the time it was delivered. A large hand reached down and grabbed his collar, hauling him over to the water’s edge and depositing him draped over the pool’s lip. Malfoy panted at him. “I cannot believe that you can’t swim.”
Harry screwed up his nose. “I can, a bit,” he protested. “Just not very well with all my clothes on.”
“What were you planning on doing? Walking to the pool ladder?”
“Well, yeah.”
Malfoy laughed. “How did you beat the Dark Lord, Harry? In fact, how did you live past twelve?”
Harry smiled. “Half the time I have no idea,” he confessed.
“Come on.” Malfoy boosted Harry out of the water. “Inside, get changed. I am genuinely sorry about your shirts, I thought they were just for rags and I needed to clean my broom.”
“That’s OK, I can wear something dirty tomorrow, or I’ve still got my formal shirts.”
“You can borrow one of mine, I’ll replace the ones I tore up.”
“Yours are all black,” Harry complained.
“You can borrow a green one, it’ll suit you. Now stop whining, people are watching.”
It was true, the windows around the courtyard were filled with student’s faces. Harry spotted Sharon, who waved cheerfully.
“I’m taking first shower,” Draco told him as they walked inside. “You tackled me, it’s only fair.”
“Be quick, I’m getting cold.”
They were both quick, and five minutes later Malfoy was already washed and dressed when there was a knock at their door. Hannah stormed in, with Sharon in tow, just as Harry came out of the bathroom, towel-clad again.
“What did I ask you two before we came here?” she seethed.
“Act like adults,” Malfoy intoned. “But you’re misjudging us, Hannah, it was all a mistake and we’ve made up now.”
“We have,” Harry agreed.
The three of them stared at him in surprise.
“It was actually my fault, I didn’t even give Draco time to explain something. But we’ve sorted it out.”
“So …” Hannah looked at Draco, then Harry, then back. “You two weren’t trying to drown each other just now?”
“Not at all. Youthful hijinks,” Malfoy asserted.
“I told you,” Sharon said in a sing-song voice.
“Oh.” Hannah blushed. “Sorry, then. Um, I’ll leave you to get dressed, Harry. Oh, and by the way, there are Owls in your letterboxes, haven’t either of you cleared them out?”
“Letterboxes?”
Hannah blushed more deeply. “I may have forgotten to mention them. Sorry.”
Draco grabbed his jacket. “Show me now, I’ll bring yours back, too”
“Thanks.” Harry began to wish he was wearing a jacket.
“See ya, Harry,” Sharon grinned.
Harry waved as they departed, keeping one hand firmly on his towel.
He was dressed by the time Malfoy returned, bearing a handful of envelopes.
“Five for you, two for me,” Malfoy said, distributing them.
Harry dropped into one of the living room chairs and began to read. There was an Owl each from Andromeda Tonks, Hermione, Ron, Neville and Professor McGonagall. He read Andromeda’s first, saving Ron and Hermione’s for last.
It was a short letter, she updated him on Teddy –burping, rolling, waving – told him that his leaving had caused a minor scandal but was now being treated in the press as an act of humility, and asked that he keep an eye out for her nephew.
Neville’s letter was more informative. The school was being rebuilt and most of the younger students had returned for the last week of term. Some of the parents were staying on, too, mostly those whose houses had been destroyed by Death Eaters, or who needed a little more time with their children after the last battle. McGonagall had enlisted several of them as scratch teachers and made Muggle Studies a compulsory subject for every year. Neville’s grandmother had come with him for the Order of Merlin ceremony, where Minister Shacklebolt had made a nice speech about Harry, and may have mentioned Neville slightly. His grandmother had then left of her own accord when a young woman from the Ministry had come to sit with Neville and see if he approved of the press release she was sending out. Neville suspected his grandmother may have been less altruistic than she had seemed, as he had spotted three or four elderly wizards offering to Apparate her home.
Professor McGonagall wrote that she hoped Harry was enjoying his holiday and settling into his studies. She apologised for not warning him about Malfoy, hoped that they were managing not to kill each other, and quoted at length from Kingsley’s speech about Neville.
Ron and Hermione wrote to say that they were travelling to Australia by aeroplane and would Floo down to see him between eleven and two on Sunday.
“Bugger,” said Malfoy.
“You too?” Harry asked sympathetically.
“They’re holding my Father in Azkaban until his trial,” Malfoy muttered, glaring at a long, closely written letter.
“The Dementors have gone …” Harry looked for the upside.
“The other Death Eaters are back,” Malfoy reminded him. “I don’t imagine they’ll be model prisoners.”
Harry looked at him with sympathy. “Ron and Hermione are stopping by for a few hours on Sunday,” he admitted.
“I’ll absent myself.”
“You don’t have to.”
Malfoy looked at him calmly. “I think they’d prefer it if I did.”
There was another knock at the door. Harry opened it this time, expecting Hannah, or Sharon. It was a tall young woman with red-streaked hair. “You Harry or Draco?” she asked.
“Harry, this is Draco,” he motioned her inside.
She grabbed his hand and shook it heartily. “I’m Leanne. You two both wanted to sign up for my development team, yeah?”
Harry caught on. “You’re the Quidditch coach?”
“Junior, but yeah. Anyway, Bruce sent me a note that I had to take the two of you because apparently you’re not bad and he’s trying to make inroads with your old headmistress. So, practice is tomorrow, ten sharp, make sure you breakfast first, we go straight through to one, no stopping. BYO brooms and kit if you have it, if not I can organise some loaner stuff for the first week or two.”
“I have mine!” Malfoy was smiling.
“Me, too,” Harry said, pleased he’d listened to Hermione and thrown his leathers into his chest.
“Good-oh. And listen, I’ve heard about you two. Any mucking up and I won’t be hexing you, I’ll be twisting your ears and casting loud aspersions on your respective manhoods. And I have four older brothers, so I can be creative, right?”
“Right!” both of the boys agreed.
“Good-oh.” She stopped and looked at them more closely. “Did you two really just go through a war?”
Harry frowned. “Yeah, we did. Why?”
“You’re too pretty. S’pose you’re both a bit skinny. Anyway, see you tomorrow, don’t be late.”
Harry stared at the closed door for a good long minute, before turning around to find Malfoy staring at him.
“Pretty?” Malfoy asked.
“Hannah says they have really hot summers,” Harry offered.
“Must fry the brain,” Malfoy mused.
**********************
They were at Quidditch Pitch 3 at nine-thirty the next morning, shin and elbow pads on, brooms and body armour in hand. It felt good to have his own Gryffindor colours on, Harry realised, though he noticed that Malfoy was wearing plain black.
Leanne was there early, too, and waved them out onto the field. “Early, eh? Good to see! And nicely kitted up. I like the Woollongong colours.” She winked at Harry, who realised his school jersey was in the same shades as the Warriors’ strip.
“OK, strap yourselves in and get up there, I want to see what you can do.”
They were in the air and flying passes with Quaffles well before any of the other players straggled onto the pitch. Leanne left them for a few minutes and went to sort the others into drill teams, which Harry and Malfoy took as an excuse to race each other to opposing hoops, switching between Chasing and Keeping roles depending on who had the Quaffle when they got there.
Harry had just attempted to score a goal from an upside-down position in mid-spin – and been thwarted by a particularly good block from Malfoy – when Leanne blew her whistle loudly behind him.
“OK, great, you two can clearly both fly. What did you play at your old school?”
“Seeker,” they answered in unison.
A look of mild pain crossed her face. “This is going to be one of those boy things, isn’t it?” she asked. “Let me lay it out for you. You look like nice boys. I’m sure you’re both very butch and very well hung. We do not need to be the Seeker to be a star on this team. It is not a measure of our manliness and it is not a measure of our skill as a player. In fact, it has the most limited set of skills of all the players, and I can say that with authority, because it’s the position I play on my team. SO. One of you might end up in the spot, the other one won’t. That doesn’t mean one wins, that means that I’ll play you where I think you’re best, right?”
“Right,” they answered.
“Good. OK, then, let’s see how you go with a Snitch.” She reached into her pocket and tossed the small golden ball found there high into the air.
It was not like Quidditch at school. There he and Malfoy had been doing everything short of killing each other to win. Here they were simply flying against each other, and Harry could see that Malfoy was good. He had a commitment to the chase that Harry had never needed to acquire. The unfair thing, thought Harry, as he pitched a new trajectory that brought his hand close around the Snitch seconds before Malfoy’s, was that Harry had never needed to learn any of this, he could just do it.
“Crap,” muttered Malfoy, pulling away to avoid a crash.
Leanne flew up to them, grinning from ear to ear. “That was great! You two are really good! Come on down and we’ll have a chat.”
Her enthusiasm drew a smile from even Malfoy. She reminded Harry of someone. He realised it was Tonks. Leanne had that same cheer and energy about her, though she was no more uncoordinated than Harry was Veela.
“OK,” she began once they were on the ground. “I thought I was going to be doing a favour for Bruce, but it turns out he’s done me one. You, Snowy, are bloody wasted as a Seeker, you’ve got the agility and eye to make one of the best Keepers I’ve seen. Harry, mate, you’re doomed to Seekerdom as I can’t bear to waste that straight line speed anywhere else, but I swear, if you start catching that Snitch early and finishing games at low scores, I will stuff those glasses up your arse. Clear?”
“Clear,” they both replied, though Malfoy’s tone was a little grudging.
Leanne grinned at him. “I’ve hurt your feelings, haven’t I? It’s because you’ve got that whole European Seeker-worship thing going. Bet you had a bit of a crush on Krum when you were young, yeah? Let me tell you, I like Krum a lot, but the real hero on the Bulgarian team is Parvanov, their Keeper. He held out over a thousand points in their last World Cup tilt, no amount of Snitch catching can compare to that. Also – big hands, if you know what I mean.”
Malfoy laughed despite himself.
“So give it a go. If you hate it, I promise I’ll try swapping you about. OK? Yeah? Good. Keep this up and I’ll organise for you to fly a few practices with my team.”
“Your team?’
“The Warriors, of course,” she laughed. “I’m on injury leave at the moment, but I’m their Seeker.”
Malfoy couldn’t hide the light that leapt into his eyes at that, and Harry didn’t even try. “Ginny will be furious!” he exclaimed.
“Ginny?” Leanne raised an eyebrow.
Harry blushed. “Ginny Weasley, my ex-girlfriend. Huge Warriors fan.”
Leanne raised the other eyebrow. “Weasley? No relation to Charlie?”
“Sister,” Harry confirmed. “How do you know Charlie?”
“Victor Krum introduced us when I was playing for Iceland three seasons ago.” Leanne’s smile became a little personal and wistful for a moment, before she replaced it with one of broad cheer. “Lovely man. If you’re writing to the family, say hello for me.” She picked up her broom determinedly. “Come on, let’s get back up there and I’ll introduce you to the others.”
Harry waited until she was airborne. “I can’t believe she knows Charlie,” he muttered, startled again at the interconnectedness of his world.
“I can’t believe Charlie Weasley shags girls,” Malfoy said more loudly.
Harry looked at him.
“Oh please,” Malfoy scoffed. “Dedicated dragon keeper is practically code.”
Harry felt slightly treacherous as the laugh escaped his lips. Malfoy looked more surprised to hear it than Harry was to make it. “Charlie’s all right,” Harry said.
“Yeah, he is,” Malfoy agreed amiably, and followed Leanne into the air.
**********************
Saturday afternoon saw Harry sitting in the spa, attempting to regain feeling in his thighs. Sharon and Hannah kept him company, along with Meredith, Greg and Wayne from the development team. Leanne and Malfoy were doing laps of the adjacent pool, with Malfoy desperately searching for a stroke he could swim faster than their coach.
“Give it up, Snowy,” she said, laughing. “You’re good for a Pom, but I grew up in the water. Say goodbye to the dream. Goodbye, dream, goodbye!”
He glared at her. “Butterfly,” he announced, daring.
She nodded, with a trace of admiration. “Hard core, I like it. From the far end to the spa, diving start?”
“You’re on. Harry, you call the start and you and Hannah watch for the finish, yeah?’
Harry agreed. Leanne and Malfoy lined up on either side of the waterfall – she was right, Harry realised, Malfoy was skinny. “On your marks, get set, GO!”
Leanne’s dive was technically better, but Malfoy’s took him further. It was close, but he won by a half-yard.
“Gah! Bugger! OK, you win, one stroke out of four.” Leanne splashed Malfoy graciously.
Malfoy held onto the end of the pool, panting happily. He grinned at Leanne, and at Harry, as though one out of four was more than enough.
*******************
Malfoy had already left when Harry woke up for breakfast on Sunday. There was a note in the fridge, where the chocolate had been the night before: Try not to let them burn any of my stuff.
The school’s nearest Floo was down beside the letterboxes. Harry was waiting there at ten-fifty. Eight minutes later, Ron and Hermione bundled out, giggling and covered in soot.
“Harry!” Hermione squealed, and threw herself into his arms.
“Hello, Hermione,” Harry said, laughing. “Good to see you. G’day, Ron.”
“G’day? Look out, he’s gone native.”
Harry hugged Ron, laughing. “I can’t believe you flew out, why the Muggle route?”
“We need to fly back with Mum and Dad, so we had to come in through Customs in order to go back out the same way,” Hermione explained.
“Fair enough.”
“So how’re you going? Is it relaxing? Things are settling down at home, you might be able to come back before Christmas at this rate.”
Harry shrugged. “Yeah, it’s good. I’m playing with a Quidditch team, going to play my first game as Seeker in a fortnight. Hannah’s been great about helping, people are pretty nice. The accommodation’s good, here we are.” Harry opened the door to the co-op, and showed them in.
Ron and Hermione were suitably impressed. “Ooh, computers, and that’s an enormous television! What are they doing with that?”
Harry laughed. “Hannah’s friend Sharon says it’s because there are a lot of Muggle-born here, and so they’re really interested in mixing magic and Muggle-tech. Hannah says it’s because they’re all obsessed with watching sport. I think she might be right.” He shepherded them back out into the corridors and around to the other side of the Quadrangle.
“Loads of Muggle-born, eh? What do the old families think about that?”
Harry shrugged. “It doesn’t seem to be that much of a thing. Sharon says the ones who are really fussed go to Murray Downs and then study in Europe if they want to do post-graduate work. There are some places in Germany and Finland that Ron would have a hard time getting into, they go there.” Harry opened the door to his rooms.
Ron snorted. “S’pose Malfoy went to Murray Downs, then.”
Harry stopped halfway through the doorway.
“Didn’t you hear?” Hermione patted his shoulder and walked past him. “He’s in Australia, too. Oh, Harry, this is lovely, look at those plants out there, it’s like a little rainforest. Have you seen any animals?”
“Not yet, I’ve sort of been crashing out of an evening and sleeping as late as I can in the mornings, they’re all nocturnal, Hannah says.”
“How’s the Quidditch?”
“Yeah, good. Leanne, our coach, flies for the Woollongong Warriors.”
“Leanne Mainwarring?” Ron was impressed. “She’s hot stuff! Oof!”
Hermione put her bag down now she had finished using it as a weapon. “It’s really lovely, Harry. Where’s your room?”
“In here.” He opened the door and showed off his space, they laughed at the colour scheme, and at the fact that he kept his broom beside his bed.
“Are those bathers?” Hermione laughed, pointing at the bundle of clothes on the floor. “And since when have you owned a cashmere jumper? Who are you trying to impress?”
“Borrowed it from my roommate,” Harry mumbled. “Have you seen the pool?”
He led them out to the courtyard, where they were greeted with waves and hellos from several of the co-op dwellers.
“We swim here most nights, or use the spa. There’s a barbecue on every Friday night, or whenever anyone can be bothered on other nights. No house-elves, so we do our own food, or eat out at the uni. There’s a good selection of food, and some markets, too. It’s nice.”
“What have you done with Snowy, Harry?” Wayne called from the pool.
“Tragic murder,” Harry called back.
“Ya dag!” Wayne swam off, laughing.
“Dag?” Hermione looked at him blankly.
“Anorak, dork,” Harry explained. “Hannah assures me it’s an affectionate term of abuse.”
“How can you tell?” Ron asked.
“They’re smiling when they say it. Do you want something to eat?”
“Ooh, yes please,” Hermione said. “The food on the plane was hours ago.”
“Come on.”
Harry led them back inside and put together a large omelette and toast, with tea and butterbeer all round. “It’s not as bad as it looks having to make do,” he explained. “The dishwasher’s charmed, so it’s really just the cooking and making sure there’s food in. I just need to make sure we give the list to the co-op in time for the weekly shop. I quite like being in charge of what I eat, it’s new.”
“It’s good,” Ron agreed, hoovering down his brunch.
“So you two are good?”
They nodded, and exchanged one of what Harry had come to think of as their couple looks.
“I’m meeting her parents properly,” Ron said proudly. “We’ve met before, but they apparently think of me as that tall ginger who trips over things. I’m going to show my charming side this time.”
“And you’re not worried they’ll be upset?” Harry asked Hermione, who had been chewing her lip a little.
“I brought clippings from the paper. I think they’ll know I did it because I couldn’t bear the thought of anything happening to them. I just hope they’re not angry at me for not coming with them. But they’ve met you, Harry, they’ll know you needed …”
“Someone smart?”
She grinned. “Yeah, sorry.”
“That’s OK. I did. Without the two of you, there’s no way I’d have been able to get through. We did a good job.”
“We did,” she agreed.
Harry had been just about caught up on all the gossip concerning Neville Longbottom’s latest string of crushed feminine hearts when there was a knock at the door. It was Sharon. “Hey Harry, is Draco about?” she asked loudly before Harry could make an adequate shushing noise.
Accepting the game was up, Harry shrugged. “Probably with Leanne or Meredith running drills,” he suggested.
“Cool, he wanted to see Betty beginning her moult, and she’s just started. Send him over if you see him.”
Harry closed the door and turned slowly back to see his two friends staring at him, as he knew they would be.
“Draco?” Hermione asked archly.
“You’re sharing with Malfoy? I hope you have good wards on that door!” Ron spluttered.
“It’s not like that, he’s been OK,” Harry began.
Ron cut him off with a harsh laugh. “Oh he’s OK now that you’ve saved his and his mother’s precious white arses. But just wait until the next time someone offers him power and he’ll be back in all his werewolf-aiding, nose-breaking glory.”
Harry came and sat back down with them. “Listen, I know he was a cock at school – but I also know what he was going through last year, and it wasn’t any sort of power or glory, OK? He’s come here for a fresh start, and I’m trying to let him have that.
Hermione swallowed whatever she had been about to say. Ron wasn’t so politic.
“You can’t trust him, he’s a treacherous little shit.”
“That’s not true,” Harry argued.
“He was only too happy to turn his back on You-Know-Who the moment the opportunity arose!”
Harry glared at Ron. “Yeah, well if Riddle had been better at inspiring loyalty, we’d’ve been royally fucked. So you can be grateful for that one. Anyway, look at him and Goyle.”
Ron deflated. “All right, all right.” He looked at Harry intently. “You really want to give him another go?”
Harry shrugged. “Seems stupid not to. What’s the point of fighting a war against idiot prejudices to just start up with a whole new set?”
Ron grinned at him. “OK, Harry, you embrace your Saviour mode. I’ll be sure to let Neville know he’s not alone in heroic saintliness. And if you can make Malfoy into a human being, I’ll be more than impressed. But I don’t have to like him.”
“No,” Harry agreed. “You don’t.”
“Do you?” Hermione asked suddenly.
Harry thought about it for a moment. “I’m starting to,” he admitted. “He’s not the same as he used to be, and neither am I. He’s trying to do the right thing, I can’t help admiring that.”
“But you’ll keep your eyes open, won’t you?”
He smiled. “Yes, Hermione. First sign of evil I’ll be popping him into a full Body-Bind.”
She grinned at him. “You are looking better, you know.”
“Hey, I just realised …” Harry’s eyes opened in surprise. “We went swimming, he had no Mark.”
“Well, that was sixth year wasted …” Ron sighed.
Harry and Hermione burst out laughing. They were still smiling when Harry saw them off back at the Floo.
Malfoy wasn’t smiling when Harry walked back inside. “How’d it go?” he asked, tightly.
“Yeah, good,” Harry replied. “You been down at Quidditch or are you just wearing leathers to look good for Sharon?”
“Meredith’s been helping me with Keeper practice.” Malfoy’s voice was still clipped.
“I can do that after lunch,” Harry offered. “Feel like something to eat?”
“Yeah …” Malfoy relaxed a little.
“I was thinking pasta,” Harry suggested.
“Sounds good,” Malfoy agreed. “I’ll set the table.”
Harry smiled as Malfoy bustled past him to collect plates and cutlery. Whatever that moment had been, they had both passed it to each other’s satisfaction.
*****************************
It was two nights later that Harry woke up to the sound of a muffled cry. He grabbed his wand and ran out through his door, there was no one in the living room. The cry came again, from Malfoy’s room. Harry kicked the door open, a shield spell on his lips. Malfoy sat up in his bed with a gasp, alone, eyes wide.
“What the …”
“Are you all right?” Harry barked, looking about. The windows were shut, everything seemed undisturbed, though oddly neat.
“Of course I’m all right, what the hell are you doing?”
“I heard someone calling out, I think it was you.”
Malfoy looked at him, then he looked down. “I think I might have been having a dream,” he muttered.
“You OK?” Harry knew what that was like.
“Yeah, mostly. Put the light on.”
Harry did. Malfoy blinked the last of the sleep from his eyes. “Potter,” he enunciated carefully, “why are you wearing Horace Slughorn’s pyjamas?”
Harry looked down. He was wearing an old pair of Dudley’s green-striped pyjama bottoms, with the drawstring pulled tight. They did look fairly ridiculous. “Don’t ask. Cup of tea?”
Malfoy nodded. “That would be good.”
Harry boiled the kettle while Malfoy stoked the fire. He popped back into his room and emerged with the packet of chocolate frogs Hermione and Ron had brought. “Here you go.”
Malfoy took the cup, and two frogs, gratefully. “Sorry about this. I suppose I should be embarrassed, except that you’d know all about bad dreams, wouldn’t you?”
“I think we can blame the same source,” Harry muttered grimly.
Malfoy gave a short laugh. “Oh I get to pop a bit of my father in there, too. Although I suppose you do, too.”
Harry shrugged. “Mostly Riddle. I used to hate your father, but I find it hard to these days. I saw his face when he thought he’d managed to get you killed, it was … Well, I have some tiny degree of sympathy for him, and I never thought I’d say that.”
Malfoy chewed on a frog thoughtfully. “Thank you,” he said at length.
“That’s OK, I know you like chocolate.”
Malfoy pulled a face. “You know perfectly well what I mean.”
Harry shrugged. “Maybe I feel a bit guilty. I saw what Riddle was doing to you, and I left you there.”
Malfoy snorted. “Yeah, because it would have been such a good idea to risk the future of the Wizarding world to make sure I wasn’t in a hole I dug for myself.”
“I don’t know …” Harry watched the fire. “If we’d spent more time looking out for every individual, would we ever have reached the point where someone like Riddle could exist? And, if he could, would anyone follow him?”
“That’s pretty deep for you, Potter, be careful, you’ll strain something.”
Harry threw a frog at him.
Malfoy caught it, unwrapped it and began to munch. “Was too late,” he said, with his mouth half-full. “Everything was too far gone before you and I were born. So all we can do is try to fix things up from here on.”
Harry smiled fleetingly. “That’s my plan at any rate.”
“What are you going to do? Create a potion that enforces altruism?”
“If only. Nah, become an Auror and nab the bad guys while they’re still at the petty end of things.”
Malfoy laughed. “That is so you.”
“Shut up, and give me your cup.” Harry took the dishes back to the sink and rinsed them. “You OK now?”
“Yes, thanks. But I might sleep out here.”
Harry looked at the warm fire, and the dark movement of branches outside the glass doors. “Me, too,” he decided. He went and collected his duvet and pillows.
“You are hopeless,” Malfoy declared when he saw their colours.
“Says Mr Green Shirts and Silver Bathers.”
Malfoy shook his head, and went to fetch his own bedding. By the time he had returned, Harry had pushed the armchairs and sofa back from the fire and placed all their cushions on the floor in two beds, flanking the hearth.
“How’s your friend the python?” Harry asked, settling down to sleep.
“That’s not even a single entendre,” Malfoy laughed. “But if you mean Betty, she’s doing very well. Sharon keeps drilling me for details on you, though. She wants to know if you ever wear clothes in here. I’ve told her that I’m a martyr to your exhibitionism.”
“Are you still talking?”
A pillow hit Harry in the side of the head.
“Good night, Harry.”
“Good night, Draco.”
*************************
It was not the approaching dawn that work Harry early the next morning, but the soft sound of movement. He opened his eyes, and tightened his hand around the wand under his pillow. Very slowly, he lifted his head. The movement was coming from outside. He reached over and shook Malfoy gently. “Ssssshhh,” he whispered, as the other boy began to stir. “Outside, look.”
They sat up.
On the other side of the glass a small wallaby nibbled at grass, then wiped its nose delicately with its front paws. It hopped about merrily for a few minutes, then bounded off back into the bush.
“That,” whispered Malfoy, “was very cool.”
Harry just grinned at him. When they woke up properly a few hours later, they did not return their bedding to their rooms.
*******************
Harry noted a distinct warming in his classmates’ attitude over the next fortnight. He assembled a list of possible reasons. On the one hand, he and Malfoy were undisputedly ahead of everyone at DADA and Potions respectively, but spent hours helping their classmates, on the other hand, they were patently in need of help with at least two classes each, so clearly not dire threats.
Perhaps it was pity, as the Australians watched Malfoy and Leanne spend hours trying to teach Harry to swim properly.
Most likely it was appealing to their one soft spot, as Harry and Malfoy took the school’s development team from doing quite well to beating the university’s C and B Quidditch teams over the course of two weeks. Harry traced his personal popularity to the first snatch of a Snitch in front of a swearing twenty-year-old.
In a bid to reassert the superiority of post-NEWTs students, the uni’s A-side challenged them to a game on Thursday.
Leanne worked the team all of Sunday, and every evening that week. Bruce Widdington gave the team members Thursday off classes.
Malfoy pulled Harry aside just before the game. “I don’t want to upset your game,” he said, “but I seriously believe that your future popularity at this school could rest on your performance tonight. Certainly the likelihood of you ever having sex.”
Harry pushed him out of the dressing room with his broom.
“I’m just pointing out the obvious,” Malfoy yelled over his shoulder. “Sharon won’t wait forever, and some of those uni boys could very well turn her head.”
Malfoy needn’t have worried. The final score was 380-30.
“I told you,” Leanne crowed. “I told you it was all down to the Keeping, did I not say this?”
“You did indeed say this,” Malfoy laughed as he accepted the fourth beer she had pushed into his hands.
“Now four-eyes here did a lovely job on the Seeking, but where would we have been if they had 230 points and we had 30? Fifty points behind, that’s where we’d have been.” She kissed the two boys loudly on their cheeks. “And where are my star catchers?”
Malfoy breathed a small sigh of relief as she went in search of Wayne and Meredith. He nudged Harry’s shoulder. “Sharon at one o’clock, and dressed to kill!”
It was indeed, and she and Hannah had both dressed for the celebrations. “Yay you two!” Hannah declared. Sharon provided both with warm hugs.
“Once again proving that English flyers make all the difference!” Hannah whispered.
“Meredith’s Japanese,” Malfoy pointed out, “And she actually scored most of the goals.”
“Oh yes, rain on my patriotism.”
“So, Ms Hannah, shall we walk away subtly and leave your friend to seduce young Potter?”
Sharon laughed, and Harry looked at Malfoy with horror. Hannah merely smacked him playfully. “Don’t be stupid, Draco. You can’t distract everyone from reality at will.”
Malfoy laughed and grabbed Hannah around her waist, dipping her towards the floor. “You are quite right, delightful Miss Abbott, I am attempting to distract everyone from my abiding passion for you. Will you succumb to my desire at last or shall I go off and pine some more?”
“Right way up!” Hannah laughed.
She poked Draco in the nose once he had righted her. “Terrible boy, besides, your evil wiles won’t work on me, I love another.”
“Oh god, not someone else after Harry …” Malfoy groaned dramatically.
“No, not Harry.” Hannah smiled shyly. “Actually, I have a huge crush on Neville Longbottom, but you must never tell him!”
“The hero of Gryffindor? Your secret is safe with me,” Draco assured her.
“And me,” Harry agreed.
“Don’t tell your girlfriend!” Hannah cautioned. “She tells Neville everything!”
The uncomfortable silence lasted for about ten seconds. “You don’t read the Prophet, do you, Hannah? We broke up,” Harry confessed. “Or, more to the point, we never got back together. She’s back with Dean Thomas, actually, if Nev’s letters are to be believed.”
“I thought he was with Luna Lovegood …” Draco said with surprise. “What? Blaise Zabini has been writing to me.”
Harry blinked .“Um, yeah, he is, they are … er … you get the idea.”
This time the silence was at least half a minute long.
“That Dean is a very lucky boy,” Draco mused at last.
“Luna Lovegood is surprisingly attractive,” Hannah added
“Your school is so much more interesting than ours,” Sharon whispered.
“If you like pervy sex and regular near death experiences, then it has a lot to offer,” Draco admitted.
“You have had too much beer,” Harry told him. “Come on, taking you back now.”
Hannah and Sharon exchanged smiles as Harry took Malfoy by the arm.
“Oooh!” Malfoy exclaimed. “It’s my birthday tomorrow, we should go out!”
“I’ll organise something,” Sharon promised. “You two go to bed, it was a big day.”
“She’s nice,” Malfoy told Harry as they walked back to their room. “And I am not as drunk as you think I am.”
“Pervy sex?” Harry reminded him.
“I heard all the tales about you Gryffindors,” Malfoy said darkly.
“Probably the same lot we spread about Slytherins.”
Malfoy sighed. “If only.” He paused. “Do you think that maybe Hufflepuff?”
Harry stopped dead and looked at him. “You know, that would explain a lot. Now come on, you’re starting to wobble.”
Back in their room, Harry left Draco to manage his own tooth brushing and changing, rationalising that he would come running if he heard a crash. The fire was low tonight, but since the living room was warm, Harry left it. Draco was buried under his duvet by the time Harry came in. He slipped into his own bedding quietly, trying not to wake the other boy.
“You missed it!” Draco announced, sitting up suddenly.
“Merlin!” Harry clutched at his heart in a bid to slow it down. “Missed what?”
“There was a sugar glider, and it climbed high up into that first tree, and then it leapt out to get to that second tree, and it spread its legs out wide, and it had flaps of skin, like wings, and it glided just beautifully to the second tree, but all the time it had a look on its face like ‘oh fuck oh fuck, I just jumped out of a perfectly good tree!’”
Harry couldn’t help laughing. “Good night, Draco. And happy birthday, yeah?”
“Cheers. Night, Harry.”
*********************
By the time Malfoy woke up the next morning, Harry had cooked a decent breakfast and wrapped his present.
It was the smell of bacon that woke him, and a smile spread across his face as he looked at Harry.
“Happy birthday, Draco,” Harry told him. “I even picked up your post. I think it’s from your mum.”
Malfoy opened the envelope beside his pillow, and laughed as a choir serenaded him with a birthday wish. He read the note enclosed, and smiled again, albeit a little wanly.
“Come on,” Harry reached a hand down to him. “Birthday breakfast. And there’s something for you on the table.”
Malfoy took his hand and came to his feet. He saw the long, thin box. “Is that?” he picked it up and opened it, removing the hawthorn wand with a look of surprise.
“Sorry,” Harry said. “I genuinely forgot I had it.”
Malfoy smiled at him. “That’s OK. It’s …” He turned and levitated a pillow wordlessly. “Ha! It’s good to have it back.”
“Good. Now eat your breakfast.”
Malfoy accepted the plate of bacon and eggs and went to sit at the table. “Harry,” he said, and waited till Harry looked at him. “Thank you.”
Hannah caught them on their way out of the co-op to Charms. “Six pm,” she announced. “Be sure to wear something nice, we’re going to dinner and then to a show. Sharon has put the gang together and says it’ll be a Sydney extravaganza.”
“Should I be afraid?” Malfoy asked, only half in jest.
“No, you’ll love it!” Hannah declared.
*********************
At five past six that evening, as Malfoy and Harry stepped out of a large Floo, accompanied by Sharon, Hannah, Leanne, Wayne, Lilah – the second Beater on their team, Greg, Jon and his girlfriend Charlie, Harry began to suspect that fear had been the more sensible approach.
“Now this was the original Wizarding university,” Hannah was explaining. “But it was too small to take more than a hundred students, and after Monty Python they felt that the University of Woolloomooloo was just asking for it. Which is why they moved to Wollongong and the valleys.”
She walked to the Floo room door and opened it, they could hear the buzz of voices on the other side. “Now my cousin Craig runs a very nice restaurant, and he’s given us the dining room at half price.”
The meal was chaotic, but delicious. Everyone had brought a gift: a snowglobe from Jon, a new pair of Keeping mitts from Leanne, a stuffed wombat from Sharon …
“You know, we haven’t seen one of those yet,” Draco announced. “We’ve been watching the forest in the dark, but it’s mostly possumy things and the odd hopping thing.”
“You don’t want to see one in the flesh,” Lilah warned him. “They’re foul-tempered and they move very quickly, trust me on this.”
Lilah’s gift was a guide to Magical Australian animals, with the sections on Drop Bears, Bunyips and giant serpents marked. “Those’ll keep you alive in the bush,” she said, with a wink.
Wayne and Greg proffered a box of chocolates, and Charlie handed over a small bottle of wine, while Hannah gave Malfoy a drawing of Vincent Crabbe.
“I know he nearly got you killed,” she whispered as he hugged her. “But you were friends for a long time before that.”
Harry tried to carry the conversation while Malfoy composed himself. “So was the university named after someone in particular? Or is that the name of the suburb, like Wollongong?”
“Oi! Wollongong is a city, thank you very much,” Leanne teased him.
Malfoy shook his head in despair. “Oh honestly, Harry, who names a suburb Woolloomooloo? Who can even spell Woolloomooloo?”
Jon grinned at him. “Sheep, toilet, cow, toilet.”
Draco looked at him blankly, but Harry was quicker on the uptake for once. “Wool, loo, moo, loo … hey, that’s easy!”
Draco looked at them both as though he was dealing with the mentally infirm, a look he considered especially appropriate.
“It’s the suburb,” Jon explained. “It’s an Eora word, from the Gaddigal people, it means place of people who really like vowels.”
Malfoy threw his stuffed wombat at Jon, but serious violence was prevented by the arrival of a waiter.
After their orders were taken, the locals fell into a competition for the silliest Australian place name. Leanne began strongly with the Great Sandy Desert, which, she contended, deserved extra points for being not only great and sandy, but also a desert.
Jon gave two: “Goondiwindi and Gularganbone. The towns you have when you want to sound permanently drunk.”
His submission was greeted with cheers, but Wayne held up his hand. “I can do better. Tittybong.”
“You’re making that up,” Malfoy declared.
“North-west Victoria, near Cannie.”
“That’s just wrong.”
“Victoria is the best for bad names,” Sharon declared. “They have Mt Buggery.”
The whole table looked at her in silent shock. “They do! I’ve gone there! Er, not like that …” She gave up and joined in as they collapsed in laughter.
“There was an Australian Prime Minister name Holt, who disappeared,” said Charlie, who had been very quiet until then. “He went for a snorkel off the Victorian coast, and was drowned, or taken by a shark.”
She paused, and Malfoy and Harry looked at her expectantly, unsure if they were missing some obscure Australian joke.
“So,” she went on. “They built the Harold Holt Memorial Swimming Centre.”
Malfoy laughed until he cried.
Dinner was excellent, and after it the troupe took the foreshore route around the harbour towards Circular Quay.
“Where is everyone?” Harry wondered as they walked through the Botanic Gardens
“The gates closed three hours ago. It’s just us, the staff and the fruit bats at this point,” Sharon grinned. “But it’s the best view of this side of the harbour. And just wait until we get to the end of this walk.”
Sharon made the two newcomers close their eyes for the last section of the path. Harry heard a gate open and close, and then her voice; “OK, you can open now.”
He had heard of the Sydney Opera House, and seen photographs, but in life it was more strange and lovely, like a shell against the water.
“Definitely not Muggle designed,” Malfoy declared.
“Nah, it is,” Jon said, laughing. “The acoustics are terrible.”
“Where to next?” Malfoy was thoroughly into the swing of things.
“I was going to put us on the Manly ferry, but it’s a bit late. So we’re off to the Imperial for drinks and dancing!” Sharon declared. “And it’s Muggle, so we’re catching the train!”
Malfoy recoiled in mock horror, but then stopped and looked about him. “Are you sure that’s a Muggle building?” he asked, pointing at the Opera House again. “Because it doesn’t feel Muggle here.”
Jon grinned at him. “Been Muggle for going on two-hundred years that spot. But was one of ours for sixty thousand years before that. That’s what you’re feeling there, the old people, quiet in the background.”
Malfoy looked at him in surprise. “Why would I be feeling them?”
Jon shrugged. “Dunno, but for a whitefella you’re pretty good about understanding places.”
Malfoy smiled tentatively at him. “Suppose that makes up for being rubbish at people. Come on, Sharon, lead on to this Muggle Emporium of which you speak.”
Harry was relieved that the train ride was short. Malfoy’s habit of treating every lurch as an impending derailment did nothing to reassure the other passengers, though their schoolmates found it hilarious.
“I will be saving myself, and perhaps Potter, who cooks me breakfast,” Malfoy declared. Harry wondered if he had managed to consume more than two glasses of wine with dinner.
They arrived at the correct station and traipsed up a suburban high street past grocers, a post office and a butcher. Sharon led them to the pub on the corner, which was pumping out high-volume dance music. “Surprise!” she declared, leading them to the door.
The bouncers cast a cursory glance over the group and waved them in. Inside the bar was less than half-full, with a group of women playing pool and a group of men cheering on what appeared to be a disco pantomime at the back.
“Drag show,” Sharon explained. “One of the best in Sydney.”
She led the group off to the bar to secure drinks, and Harry grabbed Hannah as she went past. He waited until their schoolmates were all out of hearing. “Is there a reason your best mate is taking Malfoy to a gay bar?” he asked.
Hannah looked as innocent as humanly possible. “I have no idea what you mean.”
“Hannah, I’ll tell Neville.”
“Oh, all right.” She smiled winningly at him. “It is possible that I encouraged her in the belief that the two of you were an item.”
“What?! Why?” Harry was gobsmacked.
Hannah grinned. “Oh come on, you have to admit it’s a much funnier excuse for your constant bickering than anything else I could have come up with. And besides, I thought you were still with Ginny, so I had to warn the girls away somehow.”
Harry’s visions of Hannah as a sweet innocent crumbled at that, and he burst out laughing. She pointed to the bar, where three young men were leaning over Malfoy, and his laughter grew worse.
“Go and rescue him, you rotter,” she poked him.
Harry went. “Can’t let you go anywhere alone, Draco,” he smiled as he came up alongside Malfoy.
“Oh thank Merlin you’re here,” Malfoy said, grabbing his arm. “Can you please tell these nice young men that I do not want anything else to drink. They don’t believe me.”
“Is that your boyfriend?” asked one of the young men.
“N–Yes!” declared Malfoy. “Harry, lovely chap, devoted to me.”
“Poor deluded lamb,” Harry muttered, patting him on top of his head and stepping away. He regretted it immediately. The tallest of the men grabbed at Malfoy’s arse and suggested the back room.
“Hands off,” Harry barked, and was surprised when all three would-be suitors leapt back. “Come on, Draco, I’m sorry, that was wrong of me.”
Malfoy took his hand, but couldn’t resist a dig. “Oh so now you’re my boyfriend.”
Harry grinned wickedly. “Fine,” he said, and pulled Malfoy against him for a kiss. Malfoy jerked his head against Harry’s hand on his jaw at first, and then he stopped, and moved his lips instead.
Harry pulled back. “Come on, Draco, our friends are waiting.”
Malfoy looked as though he was going to laugh, but followed Harry back to the student table. There everyone sat chatting merrily, save Hannah. She was staring at them with eyes wide.
Malfoy sat by Harry’s side for the rest of the night, with Hannah buying them drinks, for no particular reason, as she stated several times. It was after midnight by the time they made it home, and both Harry and Malfoy needed each other’s help to make it to their room.
“More post!” Harry declared, turning on the light and finding the envelopes that had been stuffed under the door. “One for you, one for me.”
“Excellent!” Malfoy chirped. “We are loved!”
“You are drunk.” Harry looked at the return address on his Owl and wondered why Andromeda was writing to him on a Friday rather than the usual Monday. He opened it. There was a single line: Take care of Draco.
Harry looked up. Malfoy’s letter was falling from his hand, and Malfoy’s knees were buckling. It was pure instinct that Harry caught them both. Malfoy sagged against him, breathing jaggedly. Harry lowered them both to the floor, holding Malfoy to his chest. He read Malfoy’s letter. It was from Andromeda, too. She sent all of her love. His mother had been killed earlier that day.
When McGonagall’s messages finally reached Hannah an hour later, she found her classmates where they had fallen. Neither boy would let the other go. She stoked the fire, she wrapped them in a duvet, she pushed an armchair behind Harry for him to lean against, and then she made a large pot of tea.
Just before four, Draco cried. Hannah joined Harry on the floor, holding and rocking their friend, and shedding the exact same tears, for the exact same reason, each wishing that there was no such thing as a motherless child.
After that, they drank tea until dawn.
***********************
Neither Kingsley nor Andromeda would allow Draco to return home for the funeral. It was too dangerous, the killers were still at large. Kingsley made sure that Draco received copies of the Prophet’s coverage of Narcissa’s death, which was immensely sympathetic to her, and outraged that such a courageous woman could have been cut down by such cowards.
Harry could not read the articles. The scabs of hope that had covered over the last few years had been torn away with this last killing, and he spent most of the next day sitting silently with Draco, or dozing in one of their armchairs. Hannah came and cooked for them, Sharon did their laundry and shopped.
Jon and Leanne stopped by three times. Harry poured them tea, Draco took their condolences. When night fell, their friends stayed until late, leaving only when Draco asked them to. “You have first shower,” he told Harry. “I’ll sort things out here.”
Their makeshift beds were straightened again when Harry came out of the bathroom. Draco clasped his hand as they passed, but did not speak. Harry threw another log on the fire, then lay down, tired as he had not been since the war ended.
Draco did not take long in the shower. He climbed under his duvet without ceremony. “Thanks, Harry. Good night,” he whispered.
“Oh bugger this,” said Harry, and kicked his cushions over beside Draco’s. “You’re not alone,” he whispered fiercely, taking his friend in his arms.
Draco turned and buried his head in Harry’s shoulder. He cried silently, and Harry pretended that he wasn’t, but he rubbed small circles on Draco’s back until the silent sobs quietened and he fell into sleep.
Part four
Part two
The first few days did not go too badly. Classes were shorter and more focussed than their Hogwarts equivalents. Harry was seated with Malfoy for Potions, Charms, Defence and Transfiguration, and with Hannah for Herbology.
Their classmates were pleasant, but somewhat aloof. Harry suspected this had a lot to do with their introduction at the ARQ game, Jon had gathered as many of the NEWTs students together as he could, and brought them to meet the two new students.
“Be nice,” he’d instructed. “They’re Hannah’s old mates, so she’ll thump you if you give them too much shit. Snowy here is Draco Malfoy, he’s going to be after your top spot in Potions, Narelle, so start poisoning his breakfast with something innocuous if you don’t want to pick up your study. Other bloke’s Harry Potter, comes highly recommended in Defence Against the Dark Arts, and a bit of a mean Seeker.”
There was a long pause among the students. “The Harry Potter?” one of them asked at last.
“S’pose.” Harry shrugged.
“Yeah, OK, good to meet you,” the student had said.
Since then it had been smiles, and polite chatting, and sudden quietnesses when he entered rooms. There was no malice, just distance. Maybe it had been because he and Malfoy both found the fast-paced Snitch-less game dull compared to Quidditch, though they did appreciate the tight uniforms.
It was hardly surprising he ended up spending more time with Malfoy. At dinner on the first night they had formed their arrangement.
“You are naturally rubbish at Potions,” Malfoy had declared. “I have no idea how you fluked things last year, but I do know that you need Potions to be an Auror. And some Healing Charms wouldn’t hurt. So, I have a theory. I help you with Potions and Charms, you do the cooking.”
Harry shrugged. “I can always just go to Jon and Amanda for tutoring.”
“But,” Malfoy argued, “they will be teaching you the courses they know, whereas I know what you know, so you’ll learn faster from me.”
Harry looked at him appraisingly. “I’ll swap you help in Charms and Potions for help in Defence and Transfiguration, and I’ll swap you cooking for laundry.”
“I am not doing your laundry, Potter.”
“I was going to suggest that you should take it down to the laundromat on Mawson.”
Malfoy considered the offer. “Deal,” he agreed.
It was day five before their first spat. Naturally, it was Malfoy’s fault.
“How was I to know?” Malfoy shouted at him.
“You could have asked!” Harry yelled back, chasing as Malfoy ran out into the courtyard. “It would have taken you all of three seconds!”
“No one in their right mind would still be wearing those rags, it never occurred to me they might be clothes!”
Harry gave up on argument and resorted to tackling. Which could have ended badly had it not been for the pool.
Malfoy was laughing by the time he broke the water’s surface, Harry spluttering beside him. “You are such a …”
Harry never heard the insult, as he was under water again by the time it was delivered. A large hand reached down and grabbed his collar, hauling him over to the water’s edge and depositing him draped over the pool’s lip. Malfoy panted at him. “I cannot believe that you can’t swim.”
Harry screwed up his nose. “I can, a bit,” he protested. “Just not very well with all my clothes on.”
“What were you planning on doing? Walking to the pool ladder?”
“Well, yeah.”
Malfoy laughed. “How did you beat the Dark Lord, Harry? In fact, how did you live past twelve?”
Harry smiled. “Half the time I have no idea,” he confessed.
“Come on.” Malfoy boosted Harry out of the water. “Inside, get changed. I am genuinely sorry about your shirts, I thought they were just for rags and I needed to clean my broom.”
“That’s OK, I can wear something dirty tomorrow, or I’ve still got my formal shirts.”
“You can borrow one of mine, I’ll replace the ones I tore up.”
“Yours are all black,” Harry complained.
“You can borrow a green one, it’ll suit you. Now stop whining, people are watching.”
It was true, the windows around the courtyard were filled with student’s faces. Harry spotted Sharon, who waved cheerfully.
“I’m taking first shower,” Draco told him as they walked inside. “You tackled me, it’s only fair.”
“Be quick, I’m getting cold.”
They were both quick, and five minutes later Malfoy was already washed and dressed when there was a knock at their door. Hannah stormed in, with Sharon in tow, just as Harry came out of the bathroom, towel-clad again.
“What did I ask you two before we came here?” she seethed.
“Act like adults,” Malfoy intoned. “But you’re misjudging us, Hannah, it was all a mistake and we’ve made up now.”
“We have,” Harry agreed.
The three of them stared at him in surprise.
“It was actually my fault, I didn’t even give Draco time to explain something. But we’ve sorted it out.”
“So …” Hannah looked at Draco, then Harry, then back. “You two weren’t trying to drown each other just now?”
“Not at all. Youthful hijinks,” Malfoy asserted.
“I told you,” Sharon said in a sing-song voice.
“Oh.” Hannah blushed. “Sorry, then. Um, I’ll leave you to get dressed, Harry. Oh, and by the way, there are Owls in your letterboxes, haven’t either of you cleared them out?”
“Letterboxes?”
Hannah blushed more deeply. “I may have forgotten to mention them. Sorry.”
Draco grabbed his jacket. “Show me now, I’ll bring yours back, too”
“Thanks.” Harry began to wish he was wearing a jacket.
“See ya, Harry,” Sharon grinned.
Harry waved as they departed, keeping one hand firmly on his towel.
He was dressed by the time Malfoy returned, bearing a handful of envelopes.
“Five for you, two for me,” Malfoy said, distributing them.
Harry dropped into one of the living room chairs and began to read. There was an Owl each from Andromeda Tonks, Hermione, Ron, Neville and Professor McGonagall. He read Andromeda’s first, saving Ron and Hermione’s for last.
It was a short letter, she updated him on Teddy –burping, rolling, waving – told him that his leaving had caused a minor scandal but was now being treated in the press as an act of humility, and asked that he keep an eye out for her nephew.
Neville’s letter was more informative. The school was being rebuilt and most of the younger students had returned for the last week of term. Some of the parents were staying on, too, mostly those whose houses had been destroyed by Death Eaters, or who needed a little more time with their children after the last battle. McGonagall had enlisted several of them as scratch teachers and made Muggle Studies a compulsory subject for every year. Neville’s grandmother had come with him for the Order of Merlin ceremony, where Minister Shacklebolt had made a nice speech about Harry, and may have mentioned Neville slightly. His grandmother had then left of her own accord when a young woman from the Ministry had come to sit with Neville and see if he approved of the press release she was sending out. Neville suspected his grandmother may have been less altruistic than she had seemed, as he had spotted three or four elderly wizards offering to Apparate her home.
Professor McGonagall wrote that she hoped Harry was enjoying his holiday and settling into his studies. She apologised for not warning him about Malfoy, hoped that they were managing not to kill each other, and quoted at length from Kingsley’s speech about Neville.
Ron and Hermione wrote to say that they were travelling to Australia by aeroplane and would Floo down to see him between eleven and two on Sunday.
“Bugger,” said Malfoy.
“You too?” Harry asked sympathetically.
“They’re holding my Father in Azkaban until his trial,” Malfoy muttered, glaring at a long, closely written letter.
“The Dementors have gone …” Harry looked for the upside.
“The other Death Eaters are back,” Malfoy reminded him. “I don’t imagine they’ll be model prisoners.”
Harry looked at him with sympathy. “Ron and Hermione are stopping by for a few hours on Sunday,” he admitted.
“I’ll absent myself.”
“You don’t have to.”
Malfoy looked at him calmly. “I think they’d prefer it if I did.”
There was another knock at the door. Harry opened it this time, expecting Hannah, or Sharon. It was a tall young woman with red-streaked hair. “You Harry or Draco?” she asked.
“Harry, this is Draco,” he motioned her inside.
She grabbed his hand and shook it heartily. “I’m Leanne. You two both wanted to sign up for my development team, yeah?”
Harry caught on. “You’re the Quidditch coach?”
“Junior, but yeah. Anyway, Bruce sent me a note that I had to take the two of you because apparently you’re not bad and he’s trying to make inroads with your old headmistress. So, practice is tomorrow, ten sharp, make sure you breakfast first, we go straight through to one, no stopping. BYO brooms and kit if you have it, if not I can organise some loaner stuff for the first week or two.”
“I have mine!” Malfoy was smiling.
“Me, too,” Harry said, pleased he’d listened to Hermione and thrown his leathers into his chest.
“Good-oh. And listen, I’ve heard about you two. Any mucking up and I won’t be hexing you, I’ll be twisting your ears and casting loud aspersions on your respective manhoods. And I have four older brothers, so I can be creative, right?”
“Right!” both of the boys agreed.
“Good-oh.” She stopped and looked at them more closely. “Did you two really just go through a war?”
Harry frowned. “Yeah, we did. Why?”
“You’re too pretty. S’pose you’re both a bit skinny. Anyway, see you tomorrow, don’t be late.”
Harry stared at the closed door for a good long minute, before turning around to find Malfoy staring at him.
“Pretty?” Malfoy asked.
“Hannah says they have really hot summers,” Harry offered.
“Must fry the brain,” Malfoy mused.
**********************
They were at Quidditch Pitch 3 at nine-thirty the next morning, shin and elbow pads on, brooms and body armour in hand. It felt good to have his own Gryffindor colours on, Harry realised, though he noticed that Malfoy was wearing plain black.
Leanne was there early, too, and waved them out onto the field. “Early, eh? Good to see! And nicely kitted up. I like the Woollongong colours.” She winked at Harry, who realised his school jersey was in the same shades as the Warriors’ strip.
“OK, strap yourselves in and get up there, I want to see what you can do.”
They were in the air and flying passes with Quaffles well before any of the other players straggled onto the pitch. Leanne left them for a few minutes and went to sort the others into drill teams, which Harry and Malfoy took as an excuse to race each other to opposing hoops, switching between Chasing and Keeping roles depending on who had the Quaffle when they got there.
Harry had just attempted to score a goal from an upside-down position in mid-spin – and been thwarted by a particularly good block from Malfoy – when Leanne blew her whistle loudly behind him.
“OK, great, you two can clearly both fly. What did you play at your old school?”
“Seeker,” they answered in unison.
A look of mild pain crossed her face. “This is going to be one of those boy things, isn’t it?” she asked. “Let me lay it out for you. You look like nice boys. I’m sure you’re both very butch and very well hung. We do not need to be the Seeker to be a star on this team. It is not a measure of our manliness and it is not a measure of our skill as a player. In fact, it has the most limited set of skills of all the players, and I can say that with authority, because it’s the position I play on my team. SO. One of you might end up in the spot, the other one won’t. That doesn’t mean one wins, that means that I’ll play you where I think you’re best, right?”
“Right,” they answered.
“Good. OK, then, let’s see how you go with a Snitch.” She reached into her pocket and tossed the small golden ball found there high into the air.
It was not like Quidditch at school. There he and Malfoy had been doing everything short of killing each other to win. Here they were simply flying against each other, and Harry could see that Malfoy was good. He had a commitment to the chase that Harry had never needed to acquire. The unfair thing, thought Harry, as he pitched a new trajectory that brought his hand close around the Snitch seconds before Malfoy’s, was that Harry had never needed to learn any of this, he could just do it.
“Crap,” muttered Malfoy, pulling away to avoid a crash.
Leanne flew up to them, grinning from ear to ear. “That was great! You two are really good! Come on down and we’ll have a chat.”
Her enthusiasm drew a smile from even Malfoy. She reminded Harry of someone. He realised it was Tonks. Leanne had that same cheer and energy about her, though she was no more uncoordinated than Harry was Veela.
“OK,” she began once they were on the ground. “I thought I was going to be doing a favour for Bruce, but it turns out he’s done me one. You, Snowy, are bloody wasted as a Seeker, you’ve got the agility and eye to make one of the best Keepers I’ve seen. Harry, mate, you’re doomed to Seekerdom as I can’t bear to waste that straight line speed anywhere else, but I swear, if you start catching that Snitch early and finishing games at low scores, I will stuff those glasses up your arse. Clear?”
“Clear,” they both replied, though Malfoy’s tone was a little grudging.
Leanne grinned at him. “I’ve hurt your feelings, haven’t I? It’s because you’ve got that whole European Seeker-worship thing going. Bet you had a bit of a crush on Krum when you were young, yeah? Let me tell you, I like Krum a lot, but the real hero on the Bulgarian team is Parvanov, their Keeper. He held out over a thousand points in their last World Cup tilt, no amount of Snitch catching can compare to that. Also – big hands, if you know what I mean.”
Malfoy laughed despite himself.
“So give it a go. If you hate it, I promise I’ll try swapping you about. OK? Yeah? Good. Keep this up and I’ll organise for you to fly a few practices with my team.”
“Your team?’
“The Warriors, of course,” she laughed. “I’m on injury leave at the moment, but I’m their Seeker.”
Malfoy couldn’t hide the light that leapt into his eyes at that, and Harry didn’t even try. “Ginny will be furious!” he exclaimed.
“Ginny?” Leanne raised an eyebrow.
Harry blushed. “Ginny Weasley, my ex-girlfriend. Huge Warriors fan.”
Leanne raised the other eyebrow. “Weasley? No relation to Charlie?”
“Sister,” Harry confirmed. “How do you know Charlie?”
“Victor Krum introduced us when I was playing for Iceland three seasons ago.” Leanne’s smile became a little personal and wistful for a moment, before she replaced it with one of broad cheer. “Lovely man. If you’re writing to the family, say hello for me.” She picked up her broom determinedly. “Come on, let’s get back up there and I’ll introduce you to the others.”
Harry waited until she was airborne. “I can’t believe she knows Charlie,” he muttered, startled again at the interconnectedness of his world.
“I can’t believe Charlie Weasley shags girls,” Malfoy said more loudly.
Harry looked at him.
“Oh please,” Malfoy scoffed. “Dedicated dragon keeper is practically code.”
Harry felt slightly treacherous as the laugh escaped his lips. Malfoy looked more surprised to hear it than Harry was to make it. “Charlie’s all right,” Harry said.
“Yeah, he is,” Malfoy agreed amiably, and followed Leanne into the air.
**********************
Saturday afternoon saw Harry sitting in the spa, attempting to regain feeling in his thighs. Sharon and Hannah kept him company, along with Meredith, Greg and Wayne from the development team. Leanne and Malfoy were doing laps of the adjacent pool, with Malfoy desperately searching for a stroke he could swim faster than their coach.
“Give it up, Snowy,” she said, laughing. “You’re good for a Pom, but I grew up in the water. Say goodbye to the dream. Goodbye, dream, goodbye!”
He glared at her. “Butterfly,” he announced, daring.
She nodded, with a trace of admiration. “Hard core, I like it. From the far end to the spa, diving start?”
“You’re on. Harry, you call the start and you and Hannah watch for the finish, yeah?’
Harry agreed. Leanne and Malfoy lined up on either side of the waterfall – she was right, Harry realised, Malfoy was skinny. “On your marks, get set, GO!”
Leanne’s dive was technically better, but Malfoy’s took him further. It was close, but he won by a half-yard.
“Gah! Bugger! OK, you win, one stroke out of four.” Leanne splashed Malfoy graciously.
Malfoy held onto the end of the pool, panting happily. He grinned at Leanne, and at Harry, as though one out of four was more than enough.
*******************
Malfoy had already left when Harry woke up for breakfast on Sunday. There was a note in the fridge, where the chocolate had been the night before: Try not to let them burn any of my stuff.
The school’s nearest Floo was down beside the letterboxes. Harry was waiting there at ten-fifty. Eight minutes later, Ron and Hermione bundled out, giggling and covered in soot.
“Harry!” Hermione squealed, and threw herself into his arms.
“Hello, Hermione,” Harry said, laughing. “Good to see you. G’day, Ron.”
“G’day? Look out, he’s gone native.”
Harry hugged Ron, laughing. “I can’t believe you flew out, why the Muggle route?”
“We need to fly back with Mum and Dad, so we had to come in through Customs in order to go back out the same way,” Hermione explained.
“Fair enough.”
“So how’re you going? Is it relaxing? Things are settling down at home, you might be able to come back before Christmas at this rate.”
Harry shrugged. “Yeah, it’s good. I’m playing with a Quidditch team, going to play my first game as Seeker in a fortnight. Hannah’s been great about helping, people are pretty nice. The accommodation’s good, here we are.” Harry opened the door to the co-op, and showed them in.
Ron and Hermione were suitably impressed. “Ooh, computers, and that’s an enormous television! What are they doing with that?”
Harry laughed. “Hannah’s friend Sharon says it’s because there are a lot of Muggle-born here, and so they’re really interested in mixing magic and Muggle-tech. Hannah says it’s because they’re all obsessed with watching sport. I think she might be right.” He shepherded them back out into the corridors and around to the other side of the Quadrangle.
“Loads of Muggle-born, eh? What do the old families think about that?”
Harry shrugged. “It doesn’t seem to be that much of a thing. Sharon says the ones who are really fussed go to Murray Downs and then study in Europe if they want to do post-graduate work. There are some places in Germany and Finland that Ron would have a hard time getting into, they go there.” Harry opened the door to his rooms.
Ron snorted. “S’pose Malfoy went to Murray Downs, then.”
Harry stopped halfway through the doorway.
“Didn’t you hear?” Hermione patted his shoulder and walked past him. “He’s in Australia, too. Oh, Harry, this is lovely, look at those plants out there, it’s like a little rainforest. Have you seen any animals?”
“Not yet, I’ve sort of been crashing out of an evening and sleeping as late as I can in the mornings, they’re all nocturnal, Hannah says.”
“How’s the Quidditch?”
“Yeah, good. Leanne, our coach, flies for the Woollongong Warriors.”
“Leanne Mainwarring?” Ron was impressed. “She’s hot stuff! Oof!”
Hermione put her bag down now she had finished using it as a weapon. “It’s really lovely, Harry. Where’s your room?”
“In here.” He opened the door and showed off his space, they laughed at the colour scheme, and at the fact that he kept his broom beside his bed.
“Are those bathers?” Hermione laughed, pointing at the bundle of clothes on the floor. “And since when have you owned a cashmere jumper? Who are you trying to impress?”
“Borrowed it from my roommate,” Harry mumbled. “Have you seen the pool?”
He led them out to the courtyard, where they were greeted with waves and hellos from several of the co-op dwellers.
“We swim here most nights, or use the spa. There’s a barbecue on every Friday night, or whenever anyone can be bothered on other nights. No house-elves, so we do our own food, or eat out at the uni. There’s a good selection of food, and some markets, too. It’s nice.”
“What have you done with Snowy, Harry?” Wayne called from the pool.
“Tragic murder,” Harry called back.
“Ya dag!” Wayne swam off, laughing.
“Dag?” Hermione looked at him blankly.
“Anorak, dork,” Harry explained. “Hannah assures me it’s an affectionate term of abuse.”
“How can you tell?” Ron asked.
“They’re smiling when they say it. Do you want something to eat?”
“Ooh, yes please,” Hermione said. “The food on the plane was hours ago.”
“Come on.”
Harry led them back inside and put together a large omelette and toast, with tea and butterbeer all round. “It’s not as bad as it looks having to make do,” he explained. “The dishwasher’s charmed, so it’s really just the cooking and making sure there’s food in. I just need to make sure we give the list to the co-op in time for the weekly shop. I quite like being in charge of what I eat, it’s new.”
“It’s good,” Ron agreed, hoovering down his brunch.
“So you two are good?”
They nodded, and exchanged one of what Harry had come to think of as their couple looks.
“I’m meeting her parents properly,” Ron said proudly. “We’ve met before, but they apparently think of me as that tall ginger who trips over things. I’m going to show my charming side this time.”
“And you’re not worried they’ll be upset?” Harry asked Hermione, who had been chewing her lip a little.
“I brought clippings from the paper. I think they’ll know I did it because I couldn’t bear the thought of anything happening to them. I just hope they’re not angry at me for not coming with them. But they’ve met you, Harry, they’ll know you needed …”
“Someone smart?”
She grinned. “Yeah, sorry.”
“That’s OK. I did. Without the two of you, there’s no way I’d have been able to get through. We did a good job.”
“We did,” she agreed.
Harry had been just about caught up on all the gossip concerning Neville Longbottom’s latest string of crushed feminine hearts when there was a knock at the door. It was Sharon. “Hey Harry, is Draco about?” she asked loudly before Harry could make an adequate shushing noise.
Accepting the game was up, Harry shrugged. “Probably with Leanne or Meredith running drills,” he suggested.
“Cool, he wanted to see Betty beginning her moult, and she’s just started. Send him over if you see him.”
Harry closed the door and turned slowly back to see his two friends staring at him, as he knew they would be.
“Draco?” Hermione asked archly.
“You’re sharing with Malfoy? I hope you have good wards on that door!” Ron spluttered.
“It’s not like that, he’s been OK,” Harry began.
Ron cut him off with a harsh laugh. “Oh he’s OK now that you’ve saved his and his mother’s precious white arses. But just wait until the next time someone offers him power and he’ll be back in all his werewolf-aiding, nose-breaking glory.”
Harry came and sat back down with them. “Listen, I know he was a cock at school – but I also know what he was going through last year, and it wasn’t any sort of power or glory, OK? He’s come here for a fresh start, and I’m trying to let him have that.
Hermione swallowed whatever she had been about to say. Ron wasn’t so politic.
“You can’t trust him, he’s a treacherous little shit.”
“That’s not true,” Harry argued.
“He was only too happy to turn his back on You-Know-Who the moment the opportunity arose!”
Harry glared at Ron. “Yeah, well if Riddle had been better at inspiring loyalty, we’d’ve been royally fucked. So you can be grateful for that one. Anyway, look at him and Goyle.”
Ron deflated. “All right, all right.” He looked at Harry intently. “You really want to give him another go?”
Harry shrugged. “Seems stupid not to. What’s the point of fighting a war against idiot prejudices to just start up with a whole new set?”
Ron grinned at him. “OK, Harry, you embrace your Saviour mode. I’ll be sure to let Neville know he’s not alone in heroic saintliness. And if you can make Malfoy into a human being, I’ll be more than impressed. But I don’t have to like him.”
“No,” Harry agreed. “You don’t.”
“Do you?” Hermione asked suddenly.
Harry thought about it for a moment. “I’m starting to,” he admitted. “He’s not the same as he used to be, and neither am I. He’s trying to do the right thing, I can’t help admiring that.”
“But you’ll keep your eyes open, won’t you?”
He smiled. “Yes, Hermione. First sign of evil I’ll be popping him into a full Body-Bind.”
She grinned at him. “You are looking better, you know.”
“Hey, I just realised …” Harry’s eyes opened in surprise. “We went swimming, he had no Mark.”
“Well, that was sixth year wasted …” Ron sighed.
Harry and Hermione burst out laughing. They were still smiling when Harry saw them off back at the Floo.
Malfoy wasn’t smiling when Harry walked back inside. “How’d it go?” he asked, tightly.
“Yeah, good,” Harry replied. “You been down at Quidditch or are you just wearing leathers to look good for Sharon?”
“Meredith’s been helping me with Keeper practice.” Malfoy’s voice was still clipped.
“I can do that after lunch,” Harry offered. “Feel like something to eat?”
“Yeah …” Malfoy relaxed a little.
“I was thinking pasta,” Harry suggested.
“Sounds good,” Malfoy agreed. “I’ll set the table.”
Harry smiled as Malfoy bustled past him to collect plates and cutlery. Whatever that moment had been, they had both passed it to each other’s satisfaction.
*****************************
It was two nights later that Harry woke up to the sound of a muffled cry. He grabbed his wand and ran out through his door, there was no one in the living room. The cry came again, from Malfoy’s room. Harry kicked the door open, a shield spell on his lips. Malfoy sat up in his bed with a gasp, alone, eyes wide.
“What the …”
“Are you all right?” Harry barked, looking about. The windows were shut, everything seemed undisturbed, though oddly neat.
“Of course I’m all right, what the hell are you doing?”
“I heard someone calling out, I think it was you.”
Malfoy looked at him, then he looked down. “I think I might have been having a dream,” he muttered.
“You OK?” Harry knew what that was like.
“Yeah, mostly. Put the light on.”
Harry did. Malfoy blinked the last of the sleep from his eyes. “Potter,” he enunciated carefully, “why are you wearing Horace Slughorn’s pyjamas?”
Harry looked down. He was wearing an old pair of Dudley’s green-striped pyjama bottoms, with the drawstring pulled tight. They did look fairly ridiculous. “Don’t ask. Cup of tea?”
Malfoy nodded. “That would be good.”
Harry boiled the kettle while Malfoy stoked the fire. He popped back into his room and emerged with the packet of chocolate frogs Hermione and Ron had brought. “Here you go.”
Malfoy took the cup, and two frogs, gratefully. “Sorry about this. I suppose I should be embarrassed, except that you’d know all about bad dreams, wouldn’t you?”
“I think we can blame the same source,” Harry muttered grimly.
Malfoy gave a short laugh. “Oh I get to pop a bit of my father in there, too. Although I suppose you do, too.”
Harry shrugged. “Mostly Riddle. I used to hate your father, but I find it hard to these days. I saw his face when he thought he’d managed to get you killed, it was … Well, I have some tiny degree of sympathy for him, and I never thought I’d say that.”
Malfoy chewed on a frog thoughtfully. “Thank you,” he said at length.
“That’s OK, I know you like chocolate.”
Malfoy pulled a face. “You know perfectly well what I mean.”
Harry shrugged. “Maybe I feel a bit guilty. I saw what Riddle was doing to you, and I left you there.”
Malfoy snorted. “Yeah, because it would have been such a good idea to risk the future of the Wizarding world to make sure I wasn’t in a hole I dug for myself.”
“I don’t know …” Harry watched the fire. “If we’d spent more time looking out for every individual, would we ever have reached the point where someone like Riddle could exist? And, if he could, would anyone follow him?”
“That’s pretty deep for you, Potter, be careful, you’ll strain something.”
Harry threw a frog at him.
Malfoy caught it, unwrapped it and began to munch. “Was too late,” he said, with his mouth half-full. “Everything was too far gone before you and I were born. So all we can do is try to fix things up from here on.”
Harry smiled fleetingly. “That’s my plan at any rate.”
“What are you going to do? Create a potion that enforces altruism?”
“If only. Nah, become an Auror and nab the bad guys while they’re still at the petty end of things.”
Malfoy laughed. “That is so you.”
“Shut up, and give me your cup.” Harry took the dishes back to the sink and rinsed them. “You OK now?”
“Yes, thanks. But I might sleep out here.”
Harry looked at the warm fire, and the dark movement of branches outside the glass doors. “Me, too,” he decided. He went and collected his duvet and pillows.
“You are hopeless,” Malfoy declared when he saw their colours.
“Says Mr Green Shirts and Silver Bathers.”
Malfoy shook his head, and went to fetch his own bedding. By the time he had returned, Harry had pushed the armchairs and sofa back from the fire and placed all their cushions on the floor in two beds, flanking the hearth.
“How’s your friend the python?” Harry asked, settling down to sleep.
“That’s not even a single entendre,” Malfoy laughed. “But if you mean Betty, she’s doing very well. Sharon keeps drilling me for details on you, though. She wants to know if you ever wear clothes in here. I’ve told her that I’m a martyr to your exhibitionism.”
“Are you still talking?”
A pillow hit Harry in the side of the head.
“Good night, Harry.”
“Good night, Draco.”
*************************
It was not the approaching dawn that work Harry early the next morning, but the soft sound of movement. He opened his eyes, and tightened his hand around the wand under his pillow. Very slowly, he lifted his head. The movement was coming from outside. He reached over and shook Malfoy gently. “Ssssshhh,” he whispered, as the other boy began to stir. “Outside, look.”
They sat up.
On the other side of the glass a small wallaby nibbled at grass, then wiped its nose delicately with its front paws. It hopped about merrily for a few minutes, then bounded off back into the bush.
“That,” whispered Malfoy, “was very cool.”
Harry just grinned at him. When they woke up properly a few hours later, they did not return their bedding to their rooms.
*******************
Harry noted a distinct warming in his classmates’ attitude over the next fortnight. He assembled a list of possible reasons. On the one hand, he and Malfoy were undisputedly ahead of everyone at DADA and Potions respectively, but spent hours helping their classmates, on the other hand, they were patently in need of help with at least two classes each, so clearly not dire threats.
Perhaps it was pity, as the Australians watched Malfoy and Leanne spend hours trying to teach Harry to swim properly.
Most likely it was appealing to their one soft spot, as Harry and Malfoy took the school’s development team from doing quite well to beating the university’s C and B Quidditch teams over the course of two weeks. Harry traced his personal popularity to the first snatch of a Snitch in front of a swearing twenty-year-old.
In a bid to reassert the superiority of post-NEWTs students, the uni’s A-side challenged them to a game on Thursday.
Leanne worked the team all of Sunday, and every evening that week. Bruce Widdington gave the team members Thursday off classes.
Malfoy pulled Harry aside just before the game. “I don’t want to upset your game,” he said, “but I seriously believe that your future popularity at this school could rest on your performance tonight. Certainly the likelihood of you ever having sex.”
Harry pushed him out of the dressing room with his broom.
“I’m just pointing out the obvious,” Malfoy yelled over his shoulder. “Sharon won’t wait forever, and some of those uni boys could very well turn her head.”
Malfoy needn’t have worried. The final score was 380-30.
“I told you,” Leanne crowed. “I told you it was all down to the Keeping, did I not say this?”
“You did indeed say this,” Malfoy laughed as he accepted the fourth beer she had pushed into his hands.
“Now four-eyes here did a lovely job on the Seeking, but where would we have been if they had 230 points and we had 30? Fifty points behind, that’s where we’d have been.” She kissed the two boys loudly on their cheeks. “And where are my star catchers?”
Malfoy breathed a small sigh of relief as she went in search of Wayne and Meredith. He nudged Harry’s shoulder. “Sharon at one o’clock, and dressed to kill!”
It was indeed, and she and Hannah had both dressed for the celebrations. “Yay you two!” Hannah declared. Sharon provided both with warm hugs.
“Once again proving that English flyers make all the difference!” Hannah whispered.
“Meredith’s Japanese,” Malfoy pointed out, “And she actually scored most of the goals.”
“Oh yes, rain on my patriotism.”
“So, Ms Hannah, shall we walk away subtly and leave your friend to seduce young Potter?”
Sharon laughed, and Harry looked at Malfoy with horror. Hannah merely smacked him playfully. “Don’t be stupid, Draco. You can’t distract everyone from reality at will.”
Malfoy laughed and grabbed Hannah around her waist, dipping her towards the floor. “You are quite right, delightful Miss Abbott, I am attempting to distract everyone from my abiding passion for you. Will you succumb to my desire at last or shall I go off and pine some more?”
“Right way up!” Hannah laughed.
She poked Draco in the nose once he had righted her. “Terrible boy, besides, your evil wiles won’t work on me, I love another.”
“Oh god, not someone else after Harry …” Malfoy groaned dramatically.
“No, not Harry.” Hannah smiled shyly. “Actually, I have a huge crush on Neville Longbottom, but you must never tell him!”
“The hero of Gryffindor? Your secret is safe with me,” Draco assured her.
“And me,” Harry agreed.
“Don’t tell your girlfriend!” Hannah cautioned. “She tells Neville everything!”
The uncomfortable silence lasted for about ten seconds. “You don’t read the Prophet, do you, Hannah? We broke up,” Harry confessed. “Or, more to the point, we never got back together. She’s back with Dean Thomas, actually, if Nev’s letters are to be believed.”
“I thought he was with Luna Lovegood …” Draco said with surprise. “What? Blaise Zabini has been writing to me.”
Harry blinked .“Um, yeah, he is, they are … er … you get the idea.”
This time the silence was at least half a minute long.
“That Dean is a very lucky boy,” Draco mused at last.
“Luna Lovegood is surprisingly attractive,” Hannah added
“Your school is so much more interesting than ours,” Sharon whispered.
“If you like pervy sex and regular near death experiences, then it has a lot to offer,” Draco admitted.
“You have had too much beer,” Harry told him. “Come on, taking you back now.”
Hannah and Sharon exchanged smiles as Harry took Malfoy by the arm.
“Oooh!” Malfoy exclaimed. “It’s my birthday tomorrow, we should go out!”
“I’ll organise something,” Sharon promised. “You two go to bed, it was a big day.”
“She’s nice,” Malfoy told Harry as they walked back to their room. “And I am not as drunk as you think I am.”
“Pervy sex?” Harry reminded him.
“I heard all the tales about you Gryffindors,” Malfoy said darkly.
“Probably the same lot we spread about Slytherins.”
Malfoy sighed. “If only.” He paused. “Do you think that maybe Hufflepuff?”
Harry stopped dead and looked at him. “You know, that would explain a lot. Now come on, you’re starting to wobble.”
Back in their room, Harry left Draco to manage his own tooth brushing and changing, rationalising that he would come running if he heard a crash. The fire was low tonight, but since the living room was warm, Harry left it. Draco was buried under his duvet by the time Harry came in. He slipped into his own bedding quietly, trying not to wake the other boy.
“You missed it!” Draco announced, sitting up suddenly.
“Merlin!” Harry clutched at his heart in a bid to slow it down. “Missed what?”
“There was a sugar glider, and it climbed high up into that first tree, and then it leapt out to get to that second tree, and it spread its legs out wide, and it had flaps of skin, like wings, and it glided just beautifully to the second tree, but all the time it had a look on its face like ‘oh fuck oh fuck, I just jumped out of a perfectly good tree!’”
Harry couldn’t help laughing. “Good night, Draco. And happy birthday, yeah?”
“Cheers. Night, Harry.”
*********************
By the time Malfoy woke up the next morning, Harry had cooked a decent breakfast and wrapped his present.
It was the smell of bacon that woke him, and a smile spread across his face as he looked at Harry.
“Happy birthday, Draco,” Harry told him. “I even picked up your post. I think it’s from your mum.”
Malfoy opened the envelope beside his pillow, and laughed as a choir serenaded him with a birthday wish. He read the note enclosed, and smiled again, albeit a little wanly.
“Come on,” Harry reached a hand down to him. “Birthday breakfast. And there’s something for you on the table.”
Malfoy took his hand and came to his feet. He saw the long, thin box. “Is that?” he picked it up and opened it, removing the hawthorn wand with a look of surprise.
“Sorry,” Harry said. “I genuinely forgot I had it.”
Malfoy smiled at him. “That’s OK. It’s …” He turned and levitated a pillow wordlessly. “Ha! It’s good to have it back.”
“Good. Now eat your breakfast.”
Malfoy accepted the plate of bacon and eggs and went to sit at the table. “Harry,” he said, and waited till Harry looked at him. “Thank you.”
Hannah caught them on their way out of the co-op to Charms. “Six pm,” she announced. “Be sure to wear something nice, we’re going to dinner and then to a show. Sharon has put the gang together and says it’ll be a Sydney extravaganza.”
“Should I be afraid?” Malfoy asked, only half in jest.
“No, you’ll love it!” Hannah declared.
*********************
At five past six that evening, as Malfoy and Harry stepped out of a large Floo, accompanied by Sharon, Hannah, Leanne, Wayne, Lilah – the second Beater on their team, Greg, Jon and his girlfriend Charlie, Harry began to suspect that fear had been the more sensible approach.
“Now this was the original Wizarding university,” Hannah was explaining. “But it was too small to take more than a hundred students, and after Monty Python they felt that the University of Woolloomooloo was just asking for it. Which is why they moved to Wollongong and the valleys.”
She walked to the Floo room door and opened it, they could hear the buzz of voices on the other side. “Now my cousin Craig runs a very nice restaurant, and he’s given us the dining room at half price.”
The meal was chaotic, but delicious. Everyone had brought a gift: a snowglobe from Jon, a new pair of Keeping mitts from Leanne, a stuffed wombat from Sharon …
“You know, we haven’t seen one of those yet,” Draco announced. “We’ve been watching the forest in the dark, but it’s mostly possumy things and the odd hopping thing.”
“You don’t want to see one in the flesh,” Lilah warned him. “They’re foul-tempered and they move very quickly, trust me on this.”
Lilah’s gift was a guide to Magical Australian animals, with the sections on Drop Bears, Bunyips and giant serpents marked. “Those’ll keep you alive in the bush,” she said, with a wink.
Wayne and Greg proffered a box of chocolates, and Charlie handed over a small bottle of wine, while Hannah gave Malfoy a drawing of Vincent Crabbe.
“I know he nearly got you killed,” she whispered as he hugged her. “But you were friends for a long time before that.”
Harry tried to carry the conversation while Malfoy composed himself. “So was the university named after someone in particular? Or is that the name of the suburb, like Wollongong?”
“Oi! Wollongong is a city, thank you very much,” Leanne teased him.
Malfoy shook his head in despair. “Oh honestly, Harry, who names a suburb Woolloomooloo? Who can even spell Woolloomooloo?”
Jon grinned at him. “Sheep, toilet, cow, toilet.”
Draco looked at him blankly, but Harry was quicker on the uptake for once. “Wool, loo, moo, loo … hey, that’s easy!”
Draco looked at them both as though he was dealing with the mentally infirm, a look he considered especially appropriate.
“It’s the suburb,” Jon explained. “It’s an Eora word, from the Gaddigal people, it means place of people who really like vowels.”
Malfoy threw his stuffed wombat at Jon, but serious violence was prevented by the arrival of a waiter.
After their orders were taken, the locals fell into a competition for the silliest Australian place name. Leanne began strongly with the Great Sandy Desert, which, she contended, deserved extra points for being not only great and sandy, but also a desert.
Jon gave two: “Goondiwindi and Gularganbone. The towns you have when you want to sound permanently drunk.”
His submission was greeted with cheers, but Wayne held up his hand. “I can do better. Tittybong.”
“You’re making that up,” Malfoy declared.
“North-west Victoria, near Cannie.”
“That’s just wrong.”
“Victoria is the best for bad names,” Sharon declared. “They have Mt Buggery.”
The whole table looked at her in silent shock. “They do! I’ve gone there! Er, not like that …” She gave up and joined in as they collapsed in laughter.
“There was an Australian Prime Minister name Holt, who disappeared,” said Charlie, who had been very quiet until then. “He went for a snorkel off the Victorian coast, and was drowned, or taken by a shark.”
She paused, and Malfoy and Harry looked at her expectantly, unsure if they were missing some obscure Australian joke.
“So,” she went on. “They built the Harold Holt Memorial Swimming Centre.”
Malfoy laughed until he cried.
Dinner was excellent, and after it the troupe took the foreshore route around the harbour towards Circular Quay.
“Where is everyone?” Harry wondered as they walked through the Botanic Gardens
“The gates closed three hours ago. It’s just us, the staff and the fruit bats at this point,” Sharon grinned. “But it’s the best view of this side of the harbour. And just wait until we get to the end of this walk.”
Sharon made the two newcomers close their eyes for the last section of the path. Harry heard a gate open and close, and then her voice; “OK, you can open now.”
He had heard of the Sydney Opera House, and seen photographs, but in life it was more strange and lovely, like a shell against the water.
“Definitely not Muggle designed,” Malfoy declared.
“Nah, it is,” Jon said, laughing. “The acoustics are terrible.”
“Where to next?” Malfoy was thoroughly into the swing of things.
“I was going to put us on the Manly ferry, but it’s a bit late. So we’re off to the Imperial for drinks and dancing!” Sharon declared. “And it’s Muggle, so we’re catching the train!”
Malfoy recoiled in mock horror, but then stopped and looked about him. “Are you sure that’s a Muggle building?” he asked, pointing at the Opera House again. “Because it doesn’t feel Muggle here.”
Jon grinned at him. “Been Muggle for going on two-hundred years that spot. But was one of ours for sixty thousand years before that. That’s what you’re feeling there, the old people, quiet in the background.”
Malfoy looked at him in surprise. “Why would I be feeling them?”
Jon shrugged. “Dunno, but for a whitefella you’re pretty good about understanding places.”
Malfoy smiled tentatively at him. “Suppose that makes up for being rubbish at people. Come on, Sharon, lead on to this Muggle Emporium of which you speak.”
Harry was relieved that the train ride was short. Malfoy’s habit of treating every lurch as an impending derailment did nothing to reassure the other passengers, though their schoolmates found it hilarious.
“I will be saving myself, and perhaps Potter, who cooks me breakfast,” Malfoy declared. Harry wondered if he had managed to consume more than two glasses of wine with dinner.
They arrived at the correct station and traipsed up a suburban high street past grocers, a post office and a butcher. Sharon led them to the pub on the corner, which was pumping out high-volume dance music. “Surprise!” she declared, leading them to the door.
The bouncers cast a cursory glance over the group and waved them in. Inside the bar was less than half-full, with a group of women playing pool and a group of men cheering on what appeared to be a disco pantomime at the back.
“Drag show,” Sharon explained. “One of the best in Sydney.”
She led the group off to the bar to secure drinks, and Harry grabbed Hannah as she went past. He waited until their schoolmates were all out of hearing. “Is there a reason your best mate is taking Malfoy to a gay bar?” he asked.
Hannah looked as innocent as humanly possible. “I have no idea what you mean.”
“Hannah, I’ll tell Neville.”
“Oh, all right.” She smiled winningly at him. “It is possible that I encouraged her in the belief that the two of you were an item.”
“What?! Why?” Harry was gobsmacked.
Hannah grinned. “Oh come on, you have to admit it’s a much funnier excuse for your constant bickering than anything else I could have come up with. And besides, I thought you were still with Ginny, so I had to warn the girls away somehow.”
Harry’s visions of Hannah as a sweet innocent crumbled at that, and he burst out laughing. She pointed to the bar, where three young men were leaning over Malfoy, and his laughter grew worse.
“Go and rescue him, you rotter,” she poked him.
Harry went. “Can’t let you go anywhere alone, Draco,” he smiled as he came up alongside Malfoy.
“Oh thank Merlin you’re here,” Malfoy said, grabbing his arm. “Can you please tell these nice young men that I do not want anything else to drink. They don’t believe me.”
“Is that your boyfriend?” asked one of the young men.
“N–Yes!” declared Malfoy. “Harry, lovely chap, devoted to me.”
“Poor deluded lamb,” Harry muttered, patting him on top of his head and stepping away. He regretted it immediately. The tallest of the men grabbed at Malfoy’s arse and suggested the back room.
“Hands off,” Harry barked, and was surprised when all three would-be suitors leapt back. “Come on, Draco, I’m sorry, that was wrong of me.”
Malfoy took his hand, but couldn’t resist a dig. “Oh so now you’re my boyfriend.”
Harry grinned wickedly. “Fine,” he said, and pulled Malfoy against him for a kiss. Malfoy jerked his head against Harry’s hand on his jaw at first, and then he stopped, and moved his lips instead.
Harry pulled back. “Come on, Draco, our friends are waiting.”
Malfoy looked as though he was going to laugh, but followed Harry back to the student table. There everyone sat chatting merrily, save Hannah. She was staring at them with eyes wide.
Malfoy sat by Harry’s side for the rest of the night, with Hannah buying them drinks, for no particular reason, as she stated several times. It was after midnight by the time they made it home, and both Harry and Malfoy needed each other’s help to make it to their room.
“More post!” Harry declared, turning on the light and finding the envelopes that had been stuffed under the door. “One for you, one for me.”
“Excellent!” Malfoy chirped. “We are loved!”
“You are drunk.” Harry looked at the return address on his Owl and wondered why Andromeda was writing to him on a Friday rather than the usual Monday. He opened it. There was a single line: Take care of Draco.
Harry looked up. Malfoy’s letter was falling from his hand, and Malfoy’s knees were buckling. It was pure instinct that Harry caught them both. Malfoy sagged against him, breathing jaggedly. Harry lowered them both to the floor, holding Malfoy to his chest. He read Malfoy’s letter. It was from Andromeda, too. She sent all of her love. His mother had been killed earlier that day.
When McGonagall’s messages finally reached Hannah an hour later, she found her classmates where they had fallen. Neither boy would let the other go. She stoked the fire, she wrapped them in a duvet, she pushed an armchair behind Harry for him to lean against, and then she made a large pot of tea.
Just before four, Draco cried. Hannah joined Harry on the floor, holding and rocking their friend, and shedding the exact same tears, for the exact same reason, each wishing that there was no such thing as a motherless child.
After that, they drank tea until dawn.
***********************
Neither Kingsley nor Andromeda would allow Draco to return home for the funeral. It was too dangerous, the killers were still at large. Kingsley made sure that Draco received copies of the Prophet’s coverage of Narcissa’s death, which was immensely sympathetic to her, and outraged that such a courageous woman could have been cut down by such cowards.
Harry could not read the articles. The scabs of hope that had covered over the last few years had been torn away with this last killing, and he spent most of the next day sitting silently with Draco, or dozing in one of their armchairs. Hannah came and cooked for them, Sharon did their laundry and shopped.
Jon and Leanne stopped by three times. Harry poured them tea, Draco took their condolences. When night fell, their friends stayed until late, leaving only when Draco asked them to. “You have first shower,” he told Harry. “I’ll sort things out here.”
Their makeshift beds were straightened again when Harry came out of the bathroom. Draco clasped his hand as they passed, but did not speak. Harry threw another log on the fire, then lay down, tired as he had not been since the war ended.
Draco did not take long in the shower. He climbed under his duvet without ceremony. “Thanks, Harry. Good night,” he whispered.
“Oh bugger this,” said Harry, and kicked his cushions over beside Draco’s. “You’re not alone,” he whispered fiercely, taking his friend in his arms.
Draco turned and buried his head in Harry’s shoulder. He cried silently, and Harry pretended that he wasn’t, but he rubbed small circles on Draco’s back until the silent sobs quietened and he fell into sleep.
Part four
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Date: 2008-06-26 05:06 pm (UTC)LJ Cut?
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Date: 2008-06-26 05:12 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-06-26 05:18 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-06-26 05:27 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-06-28 07:32 am (UTC)did i miss something? hope you're okay!
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Date: 2008-06-28 08:58 am (UTC)