Secrets
Walking briskly in the damp moonlit night, Harry groaned as he checked his watch and turned down the street that led to his house. It was half past midnight, and already exhausted, he realized how little sleep he’d get before his 7am meeting. Hermione, his partner at work and one of his best friends, was working him to the bone on their latest case. He knew the persecution of Muggleborn witches and wizards was a cause very close to her heart, but the late hours and early mornings resulted in a lack of sleep that was starting to get to him. He hadn’t been this tired in years.
#4, #5, #6… He was nearly there now, and as his stomach growled, he mutters a quick prayer that Kreacher had left something edible waiting for him. 12 Grimmauld Place had been the home of the Black Family for generations and was passed down to him when his godfather died. Unbeknownst to Harry, Sirius Black had compiled a will shortly before his death. It had taken him seven years to face the austere building after that fateful day when he, Hermione, and Ron were followed from the Ministry of Magic and its location no longer secret to those who would do anything to hurt them. It had stood nearly empty all those years, with Kreacher the Black family house elf as its only resident.
Despite his absence, Kreacher had continued to clean and worked tirelessly to restore the decrepit domicile to its former glory. He was generally a cantankerous being, but he took the utmost pride in his home. When the trio had tried making the home more habitable during their stay while on the Horcrux hunt all those years ago, there was a subtle softening of Kreacher’s hatred. Their insistence on completing his previous master Regulus’ last mission to destroy the locket horcrux had vastly improved Kreacher’s view of Harry and his friends. After leading the other house-elves into the Battle, Kreacher seemed to have found some purpose in life beyond spewing vitriol, splitting his time between working at Hogwarts and keeping the home spotless should Harry ever choose to return. After living at Hogwarts for almost a year while helping restore the ancient castle, Harry had spent the next several years funding and volunteering with many post-war charities. He traveled all over Great Britain to assist with rebuilding efforts, visited hospitals and orphanages to boost morale, and gave many speeches at fundraising galas. Eventually Harry decided five years of constantly reliving the war was more than enough, so he was welcomed into the Auror training program and its proximity to the Ministry of Magic made living at Grimmauld Place a logical, albeit emotional, choice.
Upon his arrival 3 years ago, Harry was stunned to see the once beaten and shabby door was now a gleaming crimson rectangle, the heavy silver serpent knocker replaced with a golden stag’s head. It should have been a clue to how different the interior would be. The air no longer heavy with dust and the acrid musty smell replaced with the spicy sweet smell of cinnamon. Moving pictures covered the walls of the long hallway at its entrance, his friends and found family smiling at him everywhere he looked. The chandelier sparkled as though made of light itself with not a cobweb in sight. The carpet was now plush and the wallpaper no longer hanging on by a thread. The rest of the house was given a similar treatment, every room seemed full of life and covered in rich jewel tones, a stark contrast to the dreary gloomy atmosphere he was used to. He had quickly settled in and genuinely felt at home there.
Lost in his own thoughts, his foot catches on something on the ground and he nearly plummets face first into the pavement. Clumsily catching his balance, he almost doesn’t turn around in his efforts to eat and get to bed. A pitiful moan stops him in his tracks. Heart pounding, he reaches for his wand and whirls around. Inching closer, he leans down to see a mangled and bloody figure in the fetal position clutching what looks like a small box for dear life. The lower limbs are bent the wrong way and chunks of flesh are missing from the pale torso, making him instantly queasy. After a moment, he recognizes the platinum blond hair that is matted and coated dark red with blood. It can't be...
Breathing raggedly, a quiet raspy voice says "Help me, Potter. We must keep it safe. Please."
It feels like the oxygen has been sucked out of the air around him. Despite lacking the sneer and bite of sarcasm he grew up with, he recognized that voice. He drops down beside him, wand at the ready.
“Malfoy?”
Harry glances around, at once afraid of a ruse designed to lure him into danger. Blood leaking from his mouth, the man on the ground sputters and reaches up to clutch Harry’s coat weakly.
“Malfoy, what the fuck are you doing here? What’s happened to you?”
“Po - Potter, they know I have it. The- they tried to kill me for it.”
“Have what? Why did you come here?” Harry asked suspiciously.
“It must be kept safe, or it will all be for nothing.”
“Keep what safe?”
The hand on his coat goes limp, and Harry curses. Why was Draco bloody Malfoy laying half-dead on his street? It had been nearly two decades since they last saw each other. Following his parents, he had walked away after the horrific battle at Hogwarts. He had appeared at his father’s subsequent trial and imprisonment at Azkaban, as well as his own short trial, then no one had seen or heard from him since.
Mind reeling with questions, Harry curses again and decides they have to get out of the street. He picks up the surprisingly frail man with a grunt and starts making his way to the house.
As the old building splits apart revealing #12, Harry glances around nervously. How long had he been there and who would come looking for him? He’s barely able to hold out his wand to open the door and keep Malfoy off the ground. Stumbling inside the door, he puts him down and calls out for Kreacher immediately.
“Can you take him?”
“And where would you like me to take him, Master Harry?”
“I dunno Kreacher! Anywhere, the drawing room, I don’t care. Just fucking take him.”
The house elf places a small gnarled hand on the body and disapparates, leaving Harry standing alone in the hallway. He turns to the door and starts whispering incantations.There were already dozens of protective charms and spells placed on Grimmauld Place but he wasn’t taking any chances tonight.
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Afterwards, he makes his way to drawing room, and finds Malfoy on a couch. Kreacher has already pulled out dozens of bottles of potions. The elf is muttering to himself as he starts removing the bloody clothing from Malfoy’s limp body. A wand falls to the floor and Harry quickly snatches it.
“Kreacher must help, he is of the Black Family, Kreacher must do his duty.”
Harry’s face darkens for a moment. He forgot Malfoy was related to Sirius and the reminder angers him. He doesn’t want him in his house and he wants answers. He points his wand at the other man's sickeningly bent legs.
“Brackium Emendo”
Next he points his wand at Malfoy’s face.
“Episkey”
Malfoy starts to look human again. Harry sighs as he catches a glimpse of the small box on the floor next to the couch. Why does this shit always happen to him?
He bends down and picks up the container, taking it over to a lamp to inspect it. It seems to be a miniature chest of some sort, gleaming silver and ornately decorated with an emerald encrusted serpent where the lock would be. He almost attempts to open it then changes his mind, lest it be cursed. He looks down at his blood stained clothes. He turns to Kreacher, who is still fussing over Malfoy and working on his wounds.
“I’m going to wash up. Do not let him out of your sight.”
“Yes, sir, Master Harry sir.”
Harry shakes his head and starts upstairs, taking the box and wand with him. Hermione is going to kill me.
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Finished showering, Harry paces in his room, trying to decide what should be done. After a few minutes, he kneels by the fireplace and waits for Hermione to answer him. Her face appears in the fire, looking worried.
“Harry, is everything alright?!”
“Yes, Hermione but th-”
“Then make it quick. Ginny already nagged my ears off for getting home so late again. If she thinks I’m still working, I’ll never hear the end of it.”
“I’m not going to be at the meeting tomorrow. In fact, I won’t be in all day.”
“Harry, you can’t just skip the meeting with Kingsley! He wants an update on our case. More Muggleborns are attacked and going missing everyday. What am I supposed to tell him?”
“You’re the smartest person I know, you’ll figure it out.”
Hermione huffed then narrowed her eyes at Harry.
“Wait, why are you not showing up?”
“Something important came up. I’ll tell you about it once I know more.”
“Harry James Potter. You are my partner and best friend, you will not keep secrets from me!”
“Hermione, seriously. I have to deal with this, I don’t have time to go into details and answer the millions of questions you’re going to ask.”
“That makes me worry even more. What is going on?”
“Later, Hermione. I promise,” Harry says as rubs his forehead. Just then, there’s a loud crack and Kreacher appears.
“Master Harry sir, Master Draco is waking up now, sir.”
“Draco?! Harry, what does he mean Draco??” Hermione’s voice is shrill as she responds.
“Impeccable timing Kreacher. I told you not to let him out of your sight,” Harry says before turning back to Hermione, exasperated. With another crack, Kreacher disappears.
“H-he just showed up. Nearly bashed in my face when I tripped over him laying in the street. Fucked up and bloody, begging me to help him. I have no clue what he wants. I’m still trying to figure out what’s going on.”
“Harry, I don’t like this, what if he-”
“Oi, I know, I know. He can’t really do much in the state he’s in. I promise, I’ll be fine.”
“Harry no, I’m coming over. Right now.”
“Don’t bother. I already set extra protection spells and I have his wand.”
Hermione opens her mouth to protest just as Ginny’s voice calls out to her.
“Hermione, go. Be with Ginny. We’ll talk tomorrow, once I get some information out of him. I swear.”
“Fine, but I don’t like this at all.”
“I know, you already said that. He’s waking up, I have to go.”
Harry waves his wand over the fireplace and her face disappears.
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Stepping into the drawing room once again, Harry walks over to a couch opposite the one currently occupied by his childhood nemesis. He sits down and takes a deep breath. A moment later, Malfoy stirs and winces as he tries to turn his head to look at Harry.
“Potter.”
“Malfoy.”
He leans his head back down and closes his eyes. He’s somehow more pale than Harry remembered, with deep shadows beneath his eyes and hollow cheeks beneath his high prominent cheekbones. His hair is longer than he ever used to wear it, maybe even longer than his father’s was back then. Kreacher had cleaned him up and dressed him in some of Harry’s clothes, but they were ill-fitting as the man was several inches taller than him and much thinner. He seemed like he’d break in half if the wind blew too hard. His eyes fly open as he suddenly tries to sit up, groaning as he frantically looks around in horror.
“W-where is it?! Oh god, where is it?”
“Where is what?”
“The box, Potter! Where is the box?!” Draco shouts.
“You’re not getting it back until you tell me what’s going on and why you’re here.”
“But you have it, right?”
“Yes.”
At that, Malfoy slumps back against the couch in relief. Kreacher walks in with several plates and a teapot floating around him. He sets down a platter filled with sandwiches, another with biscuits and tarts, and starts pouring tea for the both of them. Harry is suddenly reminded of his hunger and eternally grateful for the house elf.
“You should eat something, Malfoy. And then you really need to start talking before I throw you back out on the street where I found you.”
Harry grabs two sandwiches and starts chewing while staring at the man in front of him. With much effort, Malfoy rights himself and winces as he gingerly picks up a sandwich. In between greedy bites, he gulps down tea like a man who’s been lost at sea. Finally, he looks at Harry.
“I didn’t want to come here, to you.”
Harry snorts.
“I’m not exactly pleased to see you either.”
“I had no choice, Potter. I didn’t know what else to do. They kept finding me no matter where I went. I couldn’t shake them. I stopped for food and that’s when they attacked. I barely escaped. I apparated for over a day straight but I couldn’t go on much longer with the shape I was in. So I ended up here."
“Who’s they?”
“Death Eaters. There’s still a few left.”
“Why would they go after one of their own?”
Malfoy’s gray eyes flicked away, before sliding back to meet his own bright green gaze.
“No, I left. After the war. I only ever joined because my dad wanted me to and when he went to Azkaban, there was no point in staying. They were calling my mother and I traitors after the battle and we weren't going to stick around to find out what they'd do about it. We went into hiding. They looked for us for a while but we thought they had given up until last year.”
“What happened last year?”
“Rockwood found us and dragged us back to the Manor. They were looking for something. I had no idea what, but my mother did. They didn’t care about me but I stayed with her, I couldn’t leave her.”
Malfoy stopped and put his head in his hands. A strangled sob racked his body before he looked back up with tears in his eyes.
“They tortured her for days. They took turns. But she wouldn’t - she wouldn’t tell them. Eventually, she stopped screaming, stopped moving. They were deciding what to do next, and I was holding her. She wiped some of her blood on my hand and whispered to me with her few last breaths.”
“What did she say?”
“She told me to rub it on the head of the snake to the right. To take what was inside and leave her there.”
He looked up towards the heavens, taking a deep breath before continuing.
“I had no clue what the fuck she was talking about. It took me an hour to realize she meant the statues on either side of the fireplace. I waited until the Death Eaters started to tear apart the rest of the Manor and tried it. It just popped open. It was a bloody secret cabinet.”
“What was inside?”
“A box and a wand. I took them and disapparated. I’ve been running ever since.”
“What’s in the box? Why do the Death Eaters want it so badly?”
“Bring it to me. I’ll show you.”
Harry eyed him warily. He still had Malfoy’s wand but he wasn’t sure if he should comply.
“Potter, I’m not asking you to trust me. It's just, well, you’ll understand everything once you see it.”
Hell will freeze over before I ever trust you. However, Harry could admit he was slightly compelled by Malfoy’s desperation. He wouldn’t willingly come to him unless it was truly dire. Harry rose from the couch and after one more look at the seemingly broken man, he went to retrieve the box he had left in his room.