The Flight of the Twenty-One
Saturday, December 21st
With gentle hands, Molly Weasley hovered her wand above Draco’s arm, muttering a soft healing charm, of the few she knew, as the boy watched her work with wide, if tired eyes.
“I’ve always wanted to learn healing magic,” He whispered and the woman looked up, the young Malfoy never ceasing to surprise her.
“Maybe one day, dear,” She said, patting his cheek then rising and placing her hands on her hips, surveying the healing wound for a moment, then she glanced over at Harry sitting beside him, a bandage wrapped around his wrist, which had sprained sometime while hanging onto the train for dear life, before turning to address the two other guilty looking children standing beside her.
“Please tell me what in Merlin’s name made you think sending Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy onto the top of a train with a dragon was a good idea?”
Ron’s ears went pink, and Hermione stepped forward, hands outspread negotiably. “We didn’t know what to do, Mrs. Weasley, the dragon was going to kill someone, and Harry and Draco have fought one before so we thought -”
“You thought like children,” She snapped, “You could have flown away on brooms, not tried to save hundreds of kids. Not nearly die -”
“Dying isn’t the issue here,” Draco interrupted, pushing himself off the couch to a stand on shaking legs. “They were all there for me. I can’t keep putting all of you in danger like this,” he looked down at Harry, staring up at him with wide eyes and silently shaking his head, “I can’t let others die because I have Dumbledore’s wand.”
“What are you talking about?” The group all turned to Arthur and Sirius, who had been sitting silently up to this point, but now were leaning forward, looking concerned. “What has that wand got to do with any of this?”
“Everything,” Draco sighed as Harry rose from his seat and laid a hand on his shoulder, looking to the older men imploringly.
“Can we call a meeting with the Order? This is really important.” When he felt Draco turning his head to him in horror, he slipped his hand down to hold his, squeezing tight, whispering, “It’ll be okay,” as the three adults in the room exchanged a glance, Sirius rising and headed around the corner, the sound of flames igniting indicating he was contacting as many available members of the Order as he could.
“They’ll be here within half an hour,” he said when he returned a minute later, leaning against the doorframe, clearly attempting to look calm and casual in front of the shaken kids. Molly spun around to said kids, beaming.
“Dinner? You all must be starving.”
“Yeah,” Ron said, smirking. “I think Hermione and I killed the candy lady.”
At least that got everybody laughing.
-*-*-*-
“Show me,” Silently, Draco passed Dumbledore’s wand over to Moody, who rotated it in his scared, calloused hands, holding it up to his rapidly moving eyeball that instantly fixed itself upon the stick, squinting, as if scanning it like a robot in those movies Harry sometimes caught Dudley watching in his room.
“I’m sorry we couldn’t protect Grindelwald,” Sirius said, frowning at the wand just as the entire Order seated around them at the kitchen table were. “We tried, really -”
“He was too much,” Lupin finished solemnly as Moody handed back the wand, thumping over to his seat.
“So what’s next?” Ron folded his arms over his chest, standing straighter to make himself look taller in the face of all these adults. “Draco’s crazy Aunt said they’d do anything to get what You-Know-Who wants.”
“Then we’ll keep you here,” Molly declared, staring at her children, Ron and Ginny, seated beside each other with matching bruises on their cheeks from the train crash. “Never let them get you out in the open.”
“That’s hardly practical, Molly,” Sirius protested.
“He’s right. Even if Percy doesn’t confess, You-Know-Who will capture the entire Order to get our location. To get the wand.”
“Not to mention we have work to do,” Hermione mumbled to the rest of the Quartet under her breath, and the kids all remembered their vow in the library to hunt for Horcruxes when she’d learned to apparate.
“Fine,” Molly grumbled, crossing her arms, her mind at war with itself, as it had been that day in the Burrow months ago, wondering if taking in the Malfoy boy would only bring pain onto her family. She’d clearly been right. “Then we’ll send them back to school, but how exactly are they supposed to get there without being shot down from the sky?”
“I have an idea,” all eyes turned to Mundungus, leaned back in his seat with his legs kicked up on the table, having been silent for the entire meeting up to this point. “Bear with me, it’s -”
“Insane?” Lupin quickly shushed Sirius as Mundungus sent him a quick glare.
“No… Just… out there…”
-*-*-*-
Tuesday, December 24th
In the drawing room of Malfoy Manor stood a long table, which was full of silent people staring at the polished wood. The curtains were drawn, and the room would be in total darkness if not for the candlelight of the chandelier hanging high above and the glow of the fireplace. Above the long table, revolving slowly, suspended in the air, was the figure of a human witch, unconscious. Two figures stood in the archway entry, shadowy against the flames, unable to not raise their gazes to the floating witch every other moment. Finally, a pale figure, so pale he seemed to almost glow in the darkness, turned and narrowed his slit like, blood red eyes on them, and held out his hand.
“Yaxley, Snape,” he spoke in a high voice from the head of the table. “You are very nearly late. Severus, here, Yaxley - beside Dolohov.”
Snape took a seat to Voldemort’s immediate right. Yaxley sat slightly further along the table beside Dolohov, filling the last empty seat. However, all eyes followed Snape, including Voldemort.
“So?” the Dark Lord prodded the Professor.
“My Lord, the Order of the Phoenix intends to move Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy from their current places of safety on Sunday, January 5th, at nightfall.”
Shifting across the table indicated interest in the news. A blonde couple at the center of the table stared fixedly at the polished wood, not daring to show any reaction to the news of their son.
“The 5th… at nightfall,” Voldemort spoke softly, eyes fastened to Snape’s, as if trying to read all his thoughts for their credibility. Snape betrayed no thought nor flinch, and, after a moment, Voldemort’s slips curved into what could’ve been a smile, had it not been so cruel on his face.
“Good, very good. And this information comes -”
“- from the source we discussed,” said Snape.
“My Lord.” Yaxley leaned forward across the table towards Voldemort and Snape. All eyes turned to him as he stated, “My Lord, I have heard differently.”
After a pause where Voldemort did not protest his words, Yaxley continued, “Dawlish, the Auror, let slip that the boys will be moved the day after they are set to return to school, to divert suspicion.”
Snape smiled. “My source told me that there are plans to lay a false trail; this must be it. No doubt a Confundus Charm has been placed upon Dawlish. It would not be the first time; he is known to be susceptible.”
“I assure you, my Lord, Dawlish seemed quite certain,” Yaxley protested.
“If he has been Confunded, naturally he is certain,” said Snape. “I assure you, Yaxley, the Auror Office will play no further part in the protection of Harry Potter. The Order believes that we have infiltrated the Ministry.”
“The Order’s got one thing right, then, eh?” said a squat man, giving a wheezy giggle which was reciprocated by every other seat along the table. But not Voldemort, whose gaze had wandered up to the body revolving above, seemingly lost in thought.
“My Lord,” Yaxley practically pleaded, “Dawlish believes an entire party of Aurors will be used to transfer the boys -”
Voldemort held up one of his long fingered hands and Yaxley snapped his mouth shut, watching resentful when he turned back to his right-hand.
“And they intend to send the boys back to Hogwarts?” he asked.
“Yes, they still consider it impenetrable. Until such time as the Ministry falls, which they all suspect it will soon, Hogwarts will remain their safe house for guarding the Potter and Malfoy boys.”
“Well, Yaxley?” Voldemort called down to the Death Eater, all eyes following his. “Will the Ministry have fallen by the 5th?”
“My Lord,” Yaxey squared his shoulders, “I have good news on that score. I have - with difficulty, and after great effort - succeeded in placing an Imperius Curse upon Pius Thicknesse.” Many Death Eaters around Yaxley nodded their approval and Dolohov, his neighbor, clapped him on the back.
“It is a start,” said Voldemort. “But Thicknesse is only one man. Fudge must be surrounded by our people before I act. One failed attempt on the Minister’s life will set me back a long way.”
“Yes - my Lord, that is true - but you know, as Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Thicknesse has regular contact not only with the Minister himself, but also with the Heads of all the other Ministry departments. It will, I think, be easy now that we have such a high-ranking official under our control, to subjugate the others, and then they can all work together to bring Fudge down.”
“As long as our friend Thicknesse is not discovered before he has converted the rest,” said Voldemort. “At any rate, it remains unlikely that the Ministry will be mine before January, and until such time occurs Hogwarts will remain their safe house. If we cannot touch the boys before they reach Hogwarts then it must be done while they are traveling.”
“We are at an advantage there, my Lord,” said Yaxley, fishing desperately for approval, “We now have several people planted within the Department of Magical Transport. If Potter or Malfoy Apparate or use the Floo Network, we shall know immediately.”
“They will not do either,” said Snape. “The order is eschewing any form of transport that is controlled or regulated by the Ministry; they mistrust every-thing to do with the place.”
“All the better,” Voldemort nodded. “They will have to move in the open. Easier to take, by far.” His gaze rose once more to the revolving body, lost in thought. “I shall attend to the boy in person. There have been too many mistakes where Harry Potter is concerned. Some of them have been my own. That Potter lives is due more to my errors than to his triumphs.”
While many watched Voldemort, wary their Lord would blame them for said errors, it seemed he was talking to himself now. “I have been careless, and so have been thwarted by luck and chance, those wreckers of all but the best-laid plans. But I know better now. I understand those things that I did not understand before. I must be the one to kill Harry Potter, and I shall be.”
No sooner had those words been said than a sudden wailing sound filled the hall; a scream coming from below, causing many at the table to look at their feet, confused and startled.
“Wormtail,” said Voldemort, voice still quite thoughtful one might think he was continuing to speak to himself. “Have I not spoken to you about keeping our prisoner quiet?”
“Yes, m-my Lord,” gasped a small man, squat man sunk down so far in his chair he could have been unseen, now rising and scurrying out of the room, something gleaming like silver in the firelight along with him.
“As I was saying,” continued Voldemort, at last lowering his gaze back to his followers, “I understand better now. I shall need, for instance, to borrow a wand from one of you before I go to kill Potter.”
Every face along the table, save that of Lucius Malfoy’s, whose wand had already been destroyed in a fire in this very drawing room the past summer, looked shocked as they stared wide-eyed at their master, as if he had asked for their very lives.
“No volunteers?” said Voldemort. “Let’s see… Travers?”
Travers, seated across from Yaxley, startled, eyes widening to the size of saucers. Voldemort tilted his head.
“Was it not you who were with Crouch when he was taken by Aurors? You agree that his kidnapping has caused us a great many problems, am I correct?”
“Yes,” Travers choked, straightening and trying to appear, no doubt, strong. “Yes of course, my Lord.”
“So you agree then, that you deserve this? That you will require no more use of your wand? Especially in your safety and solitude within the Ministry.”
“Yes, my Lord,” he choked.
Voldemort held out his hand silently and for a moment Travers stared at it, still wide eyed, as if contemplating his future. Then, slowly, he slipped a hand into his robes pocket and withdrew his wand, rolling it across the table towards Voldemort, who lifted it up in front of his red eyes to examine.
“What is it?”
“Ebony, dragon heartstring, my Lord,” Travers said.
Voldemort hummed his approval, and after another moment he looked up and the red eyes found the two heads of blonde hair at the center of the table, narrowing dangerously.
“Severus, you have given me good news, but we still must address tonight the circumstances that have resulted in the need to catch the boys. Why, Lucius, does your son continue to evade me?”
The head snapped around and Lucius Malfoy faced Voldemort, horrified. His face still bore fresh injuries from the failure the day before, a gash across his cheek, the opposite bruised a deep purple.
“My Lord?”
“I asked you a question, Lucius,” Voldemort’s long fingers turned the wand dangerously, a reminder of the power he held, which Lucius didn’t.
Swallowing hard, the man spoke in a cracked voice, hoarse. “He was with Potter. They wouldn’t give up the wand, my Lord, and we -”
“Wasn’t I very clear,” said Voldemort, eyes turning up towards the revolving body above. “That I would be pleased with prying the Elder Wand from Draco Malfoy’s cold dead hands if it meant it would be mine?”
Narcissa, who had been previously unflinching in staring at the wall, made a sort of involuntary squeak. Beside her, her sister, Bellatrix, shot her a quick glare before leaning forwards across the table, her desire for closeness to him turning physical.
“Of course we understand, my Lord. It was a simple mistake. We were not aware Potter would be with Draco; we couldn’t dare harm your meat, my Lord.”
A cruel smile played upon Voldemort lips as he whispered, “Lies…” his voice seeming to hiss every time his lips stopped moving, and a couple Death Eater’s shivered as the hissing grew louder, seeming to fill the entire drawing room. Over their feet, a heavy form slithered across the floor, climbing up Voldemort’s chair and coming to rest across his shoulder like a great thick scarf. Still smiling, Voldemort stroked its flat head with a long finger, never removing his gaze from the family.
“You still believe, despite his constant misdeeds, that I may spare your son’s life, do you not, Lucius?”
Below the table, Narcissa slipped her hand over her husband’s, squeezing lightly, and he immediately straightened, shaking his head. “Of course not, my Lord - no. We’ve - Narcissa and I - he is no longer our son.”
Voldemort didn’t look like he believed these words in the slightest. “I should hope not. My sources,” he gestured to Snape beside him, who was watching the Malfoy’s with a stony gaze. “Have informed me of some pressing news. Apparently, your ‘former’ son has courted Harry Potter.”
All at once, the table erupted with laughter, jeering and cruel, as Death Eaters doubled over the table, thumping it with their fists, or otherwise wiped tears from their eyes and patted each other on the backs. Nagini, angry at the noise, opened her mouth to hiss angrily, though the laughter was too great to notice.
Grinning with malice now, Voldemort continued, ignoring the red faced shame blotching Bellatrix’s face (the Malfoy’s continued to make no reactions to his words). “Make sure to at least invite us all to the wedding, won’t you?”
The laughter reached a climax, many Death Eater’s shouting their own jokes about dirty blood marriage to each other, before Voldemort at last raised a hand calmly and called out, “Enough! Enough.”
The laughter died instantly.
“If he is no son of yours, Lucius, Narcissa, and no nephew Bellatirx, then there should be no issue with this news, correct?”
The Malfoy’s gave stiff nods, Bellatrix gasping, “Yes, my Lord, yes!”
“So I expect that when you join the Order of the Phoenix in the skies on the 5th to stop Potter and Draco, you won’t hesitate, any of you, to kill him if you have to. That wand must be mine.”
There was a general nodding across the table, some raising their fists and cheering at the prospect of dealing the killing blow to Draco Malfoy, others glaring at the Malfoy couple dangerously. Threateningly. They didn’t seem to notice nor care; Lucius was eyeing his wife worriedly, who was still staring, deadpan, at the wall.
Voldemort ignored all of this, instead raising Travers’s wand to the revolving figure and, with a small flick, causing her to jolt to life with a groan and begin to struggle against invisible bonds.
“Do you recognize our guest, Severus?” he asked, the Hogwarts Professor raising his eyes to the face along with every last Death Eater at the table, even Narcissa tearing her stare away from the wall. When the witch had revolved around to face Snape, she cried out in a cracked and terrified voice.
“Severus! Help me!”
“Ah, yes,” Snape said stoically, face void of any emotion as Voldemort nodded his approval for honesty.
“For those of you who do not know, we are joined here tonight by Charity Burbage, who until recently, taught at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.” Across the table, many people cackled. “Yes… Professor Burbage taught the children of witches and wizards all about Muggles… how they are not so different from us…” More laughter, one Death Eater spitting on the floor.
“Severus…” Charity Burbage pleaded as she revolved around to face Snape again. “Please… please…”
“Silence,” with another flick of Travers’s wands Charity was silenced as if gagged. “Not content with corrupting and polluting the minds of Wizarding children, it is Burbage’s belief that Muggles are not so different from you and I. Given her way, she’d even have us all mate with Muggles . . . or, no doubt, werewolves…”
Despite the hilarity and vulgarity (to the Death Eaters) of his words, no one laughed. They too had been silenced, metaphorically, by the clear anger in Voldemort’s voice as he stared disgusted at her. And then, as for the third time Charity Burbage faced Snape only to find him looking back at her impassively, he raised Travers’s wand to her face.
Tears slipped down her cheeks into her hair. Narcissa looked away. Snape stared forward, remaining staunchly stoic.
“Avada Kedavra.”
With a flash of green light that filled the entire room, Charity’s body fell with a great crash onto the table, the force of it making several Death Eaters, including Lucius and Narcissa, jump or flinch in their chairs.
“Dinner, Nagini,” Voldemort told his pet softly, stroking her head one last time before letting her slither down from his shoulders and across the polished wood, past the heads of each Death Eater to the waiting corpse. Stretching her mouth wide with a familiar hissing sound, ready for quite the delicious, dirty blooded meal indeed…
-*-*-*-
Wednesday, December 25th
Harry opened his eyes on a blurry world, as he did most days, stretched his arms out above his head and reached out for his glasses with the one closest to his bedside table, placing them on and immediately smiling when the world came into focus, and he turned to see his boyfriend sleeping on the beside beside his, propped up on his pillows, calmly reading a book.
“Draco?” He mumbled, raising himself up onto his own pillows. “What are you doing?”
“Reading?”
“It’s Christmas.”
Draco looked over and smirked at him, raising one eyebrow. “And? Before you came along, ‘Christmas’ to me was just an excuse to get presents from friends who did celebrate the infernal holiday. Otherwise it barely exists to me. In fact, I bet all of my pureblood family is currently planning how to foil our own plans to get back to Hogwarts at this very moment.”
Harry couldn’t help but smirk back. “And yet here you are reading. Shouldn’t you be training for a strike?”
Draco hopped out of bed and crossed the distance between them, leaning down and pecking a kiss on his lips. “It’s Christmas.” he whispered and Harry chuckled.
For one last day of peace at Grimmauld Place, the Order gathered and celebrated a truly happy Christmas. The kids padded down the stairs to the drawing room to find a tall, real tree waiting, Sirius humming ‘God Rest Ye Merry Hippogriffs’ under his breath as he shuffled the presents around, Mrs. Weasley passing out eggnog to the adults already awake.
Beaming at such a natural display the kids sat around the living room for a gift exchange. The entire Weasley family, save for Charlie, had come, and Molly and Ginny were even trying desperately to be nice to Fleur as Tess glared at them through tired eyes, bouncing two little girls at once on her knees while Fred and George played with baby Hans with the toys he had already opened with his sisters so that the triplets would be distracted during the gift exchange.
Sirius and Remus were of course here, but Tonks said she couldn’t come this year and chose to spend the holidays with her family instead. Draco had gotten very quiet at this, but Harry hadn’t questioned it.
Hermione was notably absent from this years Christmas due to her parents worrying for her safety following the train crash, which meant she wouldn’t be participating in Mundungus’s elaborate, but admittedly ingenious plan to split Harry and Draco into seven, but from her consistent letters she clearly was still devoting herself to scouring any resource she could for information on the different objects they suspected to be Horcruxes whereabouts. She had even found the location of the cave where those two orphans from Riddle’s orphanage had gone missing, which Harry and Draco had theorized, due to the clarity of the news clipping in the memory, had to be important. That and how it was so deeply connected to Riddle’s time at the orphanage, a time they knew very little about.
Outside of theories and Horcruxes, however, this year’s haul of Christmas gifts was quite nice.
Harry’s usual Weasley sweater this year consisted of a green jumper with a large golden snitch on the center, and, additionally, a box of Wizard Wheezes products from the twins, a new broom cleaning kit from Ron (“Heard you complaining about the last one getting old,”), and a set of Muggle dog chew-toys for Prongs from Hermione. Hagrid gave him a book called Dragons & The Mysteries The Wizarding World Doesn’t Want You To Know, the inside cover having a scrawled note inside claiming it was recommended by Charlie, and Sirius and Remus gave him a professional Sneakoscope. Finally, Draco had clearly had long talks with the Weasley matriarchs, and crafted for him a silver watch whose face told you not the time, but the locations of all of the Quartet, plus the Weasley family, just as the Weasley family clock Molly had did.
Harry beamed as his boyfriend helped clip it onto his wrist then, grinning even wider, leaning forward to kiss him deeply. When the two pulled away it was to the realization that the adults in the room did not yet know they were dating. Fleur whispered something to Bill that sounded suspiciously like ‘I told you so’, Molly and Arthur stared wide eyed, mouths agape, Fred and George nodded approvingly, and Tess raised her eyebrows with a small smirk on her lips, Molly II clapping her hands and giggling.
Harry then eyed a present Sirius was passing along the line, claiming to be his, raising an eyebrow.
“Who else could’ve gotten me something? Tess did -” The young mother shook her head, an understanding already having been reached that she wasn’t in any economic situation to gift him anything, which meant the small, messily wrapped package was quite out of place indeed.
That is, until Harry picked up the notably Muggle Christmas card and felt himself smile when he opened it to see faintly familiar crude handwriting.
Hey Harry,
I know Mom and Dad never gave you any real gifts, and I was stumped for a while on how to make up for that. (By the way, guess how many they bought for me this year? Fifty. Well, I know Christmas gifts shouldn’t be measured in money, but, unlike any video game Mom and Dad could give, I think this will hold some real weight to it.
Your cousin,
Big D
P.S: Give Prongs pets for me, okay?
Carefully, Harry peeled back the mismatched layers of wrapping on the small box, and gasped when he lifted the lid. Waiting inside were two keys, one silver, one gold, and a key fob, a tag attached to the ring holding them all. Harry hurriedly read it, mind running wild with disbelief that this could possibly be what he thought it was.
Don’t freak out, Dad pulled some strings to get me this job that pays bogus money I don’t need. The car’s nice, I know you’ll love it, it goes with the silver key. The gold one’s to home, if you ever feel like coming back. Mrs. Fig across the street has the car right now, feel free to pick it up whenever.
Harry smiled, and hugged the keys to his chest, sighing and shaking his head. How and when had he shaped Dudley into this kind of person? Had he done it all on his own? He never stopped surprising him, but, then again, neither did Draco, and the resemblances were undeniable.
-*-*-*-
It was a nice car. While Molly, Tess, Fleur, and Ginny made dinner Sirius and Remus had agreed to side-along-apparate Harry to Privet Drive where Mrs. Fig was waiting, smiling and waving from the doorway as Harry waved back. Then, he tapped his wand on the car, shrinking it down to toy-sized so he could slip it into his pocket (a sky blue Rover 200, a nice car indeed).
When he turned back around he raised his arm to Sirius, fully prepared to apparate away, but before Sirius’s hand closed around his arm, he allowed himself one glance to the house across from where they stood.
The curtains were drawn at Number 4 Privet Drive, but the sparkling lights of a Christmas tree could still be seen through the silk, as well as three shadows, huddled around it. One was clearly closer to the curtains, and, as Harry squinted, he saw his cousin pull them back just slightly so they could briefly lock eyes.
He smiled and waved, then disappeared with a soft pop, so as not to alert the Muggles enjoying a happy Christmas.
They returned to Grimmauld Place and Harry was prepared to lay down for a long night’s sleep, but when he walked into his room his eyes briefly turned to the window, which, as always, had music drifting in through it from the loud radio playing in the house beside Sirius’s. Only this time, the barren windowsill with tattered, motheaten curtains wasn’t so barren.
A small, green box sat on it, begging to be opened.
“Draco -” Harry cut himself off when he looked over and saw his boyfriend peacefully snoozing, instead stepping forward and picking up the box, softly frowning only out of apprehension as he opened it.
Inside, sitting upon matching emerald silk cushions, was a golden sphere the size of a golf ball, cold to the touch when he lifted it out of its container.
A Golden Snitch.
-*-*-*-
Sunday, January 5th
Even after several letter exchanges with Hermione, none of the Quartet could yet piece together who’d given Harry the Snitch, why, or what the note hidden beneath the cushions saying, ‘To Harry James Potter, I leave the Snitch he caught in his first Quidditch match at Hogwarts, as a reminder of the rewards of perseverance and skill.’ could possibly mean.
It doesn’t make any sense, Hermione had written in her latest correspondence. Snitches have flesh memory. Why didn’t it react when you touched it?
“It’s got to be special,” Ron determined whilst the boys sat in a circle in Harry and Draco’s room, each holding their gifted objects from Dumbledore. “We know Dumbledore gave the book to Hermione and his wand to you for a reason,” he pointed a finger at Draco, “So there has to be a reason for this thing,” he waved the Deluminator. “And that,” he pointed at the Snitch.
“Maybe the memories Dumbledore gave you will show us,” Draco suggested as Harry shrugged in response. In truth, this was one subject he didn’t have a single theory or thought on. Instead, he simply turned back to his suitcase that sat on his bed, open and waiting
They were meant to be packing for a peaceful return to Hogwarts - after what would certainly turn out to be an eventful night following Mundungus’s plan, which Harry had already attempted to protest doing but given up after a week - but were secretly preparing for a long hunt for Horcruxes, which they still planned to go one once Hermione learned to Apparate. They’d strategically chosen this minute to do so, as the Weasley matriarchs were busy dropping Ginny off at King’s Cross so they wouldn’t ask what the three boys were doing taking so long with packing. Why did it take so long? Because for the first time in years, Harry was emptying his suitcase entirely and carefully choosing what was worth taking.
They’d determined they would need to keep all their school supplies for the weeks it would take even someone like Hermione to master apparating, so Harry’s Quidditch robes and text books (including his book on Defense from Sirius and Lupin and the book on dragons Hagrid had just gifted him) were already neatly piled in his trunk. Next were his Muggle clothing, packed neatly beneath his school robes and uniform, where they wouldn’t draw attention. The only reason this all fit nice and neatly was due to the fact that he and Ron had split their Muggle clothes and each given half to Draco. Also, hidden under all of this was the photograph album Hagrid had once given him at the end of First Year, a gift he still cherished deeply to this day, and was able to squeeze in his broom cleaning kit.
With his trunk all stuffed, he turned to his rucksack, the front of which had already been packed with Prongs’s toys and treats (they’d determined leaving their Owls, Altais, and Crookshanks would be best, but Prongs could help them get food or sniff out Death Eaters, and so Harry convinced the rest of the Quartet to let him come, and they needed at least one source of communication, that being Hedwig) and the wallet Hagrid gave him last year that he still was apprehensive about using, fearing it would tear off his fingers with its fangs. Now, he placed the twins’s Weasley Wizard Wheezes products that weren’t just for fun at the bottom - some were useful stuff like what they’d shown him in the back of their store in August - his Invisibility Cloak, and gloves and hats in case things got cold. The remaining space was plenty enough for Prongs to perch and be zipped up out of sight if needed.
With that, the boys were ready to head down the stairs to where the Order was all waiting for Mundungus’s elaborate plan to begin.
Ideally, it would work like this; Harry and Draco couldn’t be caught flying back to Hogwarts if there were seven of them, right? So, twenty one members of the Order of the Phoenix now stood in lines in the basement, the long dining table pushed against the wall to make room, as Mad-Eye hobbled forwards, holding out two mugs of Polyjuice potion to Harry and Draco.
As they dropped their respective hairs, Harry’s potions turned a brilliant gold, thick as if someone had melted down gold itself, and Draco’s a deep green.
“Much more pleasing than Crabbe’s,” Ron nodded while Draco sent him a sharp glare, clearly still recovering from the shock of the realization that they had snuck into his Common Room in Second Year.
He stepped back into the ‘Harry-line’ with his hands up in mock surrender, taking the Polyjuice Mad-Eye offered without hesitation. He, Fred, George, Fleur, Tess, and Mundungus morphed into Harry in a truly disgusting manner that made him have to look away after their hairlines started to grow or recede backwards into their skulls. Meanwhile, Draco turned green as he watched the opposite side of the room sprout pale blonde hair. He barely knew a single one of them, two of which, Nymphadora and Ted Tonks, family he had never met before then, a third, Sirius Black, family who had once slammed the door in his face as a joke. Bill Weasley he at least could recognize but had never spoken to, and there was something unsettling about watching his teacher, Snape, become him, alongside his former teacher Lupin.
“Wow,” Fred and George exclaimed in unison once all twelve of them had finished transforming, “We’re identical!”
“I dunno,” Fred turned and examined himself in a pot hanging from the ceiling. “I think I’m still better-looking.”
Fleur, however, took one look at herself in said pot and shrieked. “Bill, don’t look at me - I’m ‘ideous.”
Bill glanced down at himself, running a hand through his new head of pale locks and frowning. “I think having short hair again is worse… Hey Malfoy, maybe you should grow it! Then you'll look like your dad!”
Draco frowned, crossing his arms. “And you’re assuming that’s a good thing?”
Half the ground chorused, “It’s not,” though with their disguises no one could tell who was who.
“Alright,” Moody limped forward and dropped two giant sacks at the Harry’s feet, and two at the Draco’s. “Those whose clothes are a bit roomy, I’ve got smaller here,” he said, pointing at one of each of the pairs of sacks. “and vice versa. Don’t forget the glasses, there’s six pairs in the side pocket. And when you’re dressed, there’s luggage in the other sack.”
Out of all the bizarre things the real Harry had seen, this was by far one of the most extreme, as his six doppelgangers began to strip openly, displaying his shirtless body to everyone in the room with no restraint, even though no one, but Draco beside him, looking equally horrified at it all, seemed to mind. Once they were all in identical clothes, they were each given trunks identical to Harry and Draco’s (in appearance), and the Harry’s got stuffed snowy owls in cages and stuffed crops in rucksacks.
“The pairs will be as follows: Mundungus and Snape will be traveling with me, by broom -”
“Why’m I with you?” grunted the Harry that stood nearest the door to the stairwell. A Draco smoothly slipped between the bodies to glower down his nose at him, looking remarkably akin to Snape even as he walked and talked like Harry’s boyfriend.
“Because no one trusts you to use the toilet on your own much less fly in a fight, Fletcher.” He sneered.
“Arthur you’re going with Fred and Ted because I think the rhyme is funny -”
“I’m George,” said the Harry Moody was pointing at. “Can’t you even tell us apart when we’re Harry?”
“Sorry, George -”
“I’m only yanking your wand, I’m Fred really -”
“Enough messing around!” Moody growled, pointing at the Harry now leaning on Fred’s shoulder, smirking smartly. “The other one - George or Fred or whoever you are - you’re with Lupin and Kingsley. Miss Delacour -”
Harry scowled as Fleur leaned against Bill, the sight really being a warm embrace between he and his boyfriend, and one he didn’t quite like seeing omnipotently - there was an uncanny feeling about it all.
“Yeah, yeah, you lovebirds are riding a Thestral with ‘Dromeda, and Tonks and Tess will be with Diggle on broomsticks.” one of the Draco’s tripped over a chair as she dashed towards Daedalus Diggle and the calmly waiting Harry beside him. Diggle winced as Tonks approached, looking like he greatly regretted volunteering for this.
“Real Draco… where are you?”
“Here!” Harry sighed with relief when his boyfriend came to stand beside him, squeezing his hand comfortingly. It was so painfully obvious, now, as he stood beside him, that this was the real Draco. No one else here had eyes that dazzled in just that way. “You better tell me I’m going with the real Harry,” he scowled down his nose at Moody, and Harry couldn’t help the way his heart soared at his usual antics.
“Not sorry, but there’s no sense in putting the real ones together. You’ll be riding a Thestral with Ron and Hestia.” Draco turned and frowned at the Harry that was very much not his boyfriend standing beside him, then looked over at his Professor awkwardly. They had to be crossing some social boundary in having two of his teacher’s and a former one present (Moody didn’t count).
“An’ you’re with me, Harry.” He looked around, stumbling back a bit in surprise to see Hagrid standing behind him, pressed against the corner of the room, huge even in the high ceilinged kitchen. “That all righ'? We'll be on Sirius’s bike, brooms and' Thestrals can’t take me weight, see. Not a lot o’ room on the seat with me on it, though, so you’ll be in the sidecar.”
“That’s great,” Harry would’ve preferred a broomstick and his boyfriend, truthfully, but instead his Godfather wearing the pale face of him stepped up beside him, slapping an arm on his shoulder.
“Don’t you worry, Harry, I’ve trusted Hagrid with my motorbike this long for a reason. Plus I’ve added another sidecar so you won’t be squeezed against my pretty face.” He winked and Harry couldn’t help but laugh.
“Alright,” Moody bellowed, gathering the attention of the crowd of Harry’s, Draco’s, and Order members. “We’d better get going now, out to the front, you lot.”
Harry, upon grabbing his trunk, rucksack, Firebolt, and Hedwig’s cage, had to be very careful not to blend in with the crowd of matching jet black heads of hair mixing with pale blonde. However, he could feel Sirius, with the grin of Draco, comfortingly guiding him through, so was able to keep his breathing steady as they stepped out into the cold, bitter air of the London winter.
Hagrid stood at the end of the line beside the motorbike, goggles on. Harry, stepping over to it with wide eyes, dropped his rucksack inside the sidecar so that Prongs poked his head out, barking and yipping happily as Harry ran a hand over the smooth surface of the bike.
“So this is it? Your bike?” He turned to his Godfather, who smiled and nodded.
“Yeh’ve seen it before,” Hagrid beamed at them. “Last time yeh was on it, Harry, I could fit yeh in one hand!”
Harry smiled, but startled at the sound of a shrill scream. Turning around, he saw one of the Draco’s was now stumbling back from a very familiar Hippogriff, while one of the Harry’s held onto him by the shoulders, laughing heartily.
“Harry!” the Draco yelled, glaring over at him. “This was a trap to get me to ride this beast, wasn’t it?”
“Relax, Malfoy,” Moody hobbled forward, glowering at him. “You’re riding a Thestral, I told you! Now move along and he’ll leave yer alone.” Draco glared at Buckbeak quickly for good measure, but otherwise hung his head and climbed onto a dark Thestral Professor Jones was already waiting on, the two helping Ron - who still couldn’t see them - up onto it.
Harry turned and resigned himself to climbing into the sidecar, Sirius taking the one he’d added on. With his rucksack and cage on his knees, trunk and Firebolt stuffed at his feet, it was incredibly uncomfortable, and the way Ron and Draco were snorting at him wasn’t helping much at all, though it was humbling to see that look on his own face.
“Arthur’s done a bit o’ tinkerin’,” Hagrid was saying. “It’s got a few tricks up its sleeves now. Tha’ one was my idea.”
“Ooh,” Sirius stretched a hand out to touch the purple button Hagrid was pointing at but a hand suddenly grabbed his wrist, pushing it away. Harry looked up to see Mr. Weasley, frowning down at the bike.
“Please be careful, Hagrid. I’m still not sure that was advisable and it’s certainly only to be used in emergencies.”
“All right then,” Moody called out above the casual chattering of the groups around them, silencing them all in seconds and bringing attention to where he stood beside Mundungus and Snape’s broom. “Everyone ready, please. I want us all to leave at exactly the same time or the whole point of the diversion’s lost.”
Everyone nodded. Harry settled deeper into the sidecar, and Draco dug his heels into the scaly sides of the Thestral, hands on Ron’s shoulders, desperately trying to force himself into believing it really was Harry instead.
“Good luck everyone. See you all in about three hours at Hogwarts. On the count of three. One… two… THREE.”
With a roar and cough like a dragon spitting out flames, the motorbike rose high up into the air, much fast than Harry expected it to considering the wait it was carrying, causing him to jolt suddenly in the tight space of the side car. Prongs barked frantically and Harry shushed him quickly, zipping up the rucksack and leaving only enough space for him to breathe. Then, he took one last quick look back at Grimmauld Place, which had completely blended in with the identical buildings around it, now.
“Don’t bother, Harry!” Sirius called over the wind. “It’ll have disappeared by now.” Harry turned back around, settled deeper into the sidecar, as comfortable as he could, prepared for a long journey as he watched different specks carrying his friends fade away.
The trouble was, some were getting closer. The trouble was, there were no longer only twenty, but at least fifty.
Thirty hooded Death Eater’s, all on brooms, appeared out of the clouds, thin air, and mist, forming a circle that cornered each of the groups attempting to fly away.
Draco, gripping Ron hard enough to leave marks on his skin now, had only enough time to whisper, “No,” before people were screaming and curses were being fired every which way.
“It’s an ambush!” Ron shouted, struggling to rip out his wand as Draco fumbled for his own, hesitating over if it was best to use both.
He settled on no. They couldn’t risk him losing Dumbledore’s wand. This high up, they’d never get it back.
“HELP!” Draco whipped his head around and saw the real Harry gripping the strap of his rucksack, dangling upside down from the helpless little sidecar. He bit his tongue hard enough to draw blood to stop himself from calling out his name, instead pointing his wand up at the Death Eater closest to Harry and bellowing out, “EXPELLIARMUS!” They were moving too fast for him to even confirm if the spell made contact, however, he could only look behind him to see Hagrid had righted the motorcar again.
Harry sighed, hugging his rucksack close to his chest and gripping Hedwig’s cage to stop it from falling as well, while his eyes darted frantically around him. He could hear Prongs whimpering inside the bag, and Hedwig was chattering frantically.
“It’s alright Hedwig, you’re okay -”
A jet of green light crossed right before him, lighting up his whole arm before fading. When it cleared, he heard his owl screech then fall to the floor of the cage.
“No - NO!”
A broom passed below them and he could faintly hear Moody yelling, but it barely reached his ears. Everything suddenly felt foggy, words coming through a cloud of cotton. For a moment, all he could see was his owl laying limp at the bottom of her cage, like all the other stuffed toys that fake Harry’s were using. Then he heard shouting once more, Sirius bellowing curses, and emerged from a pool of grief, shoving Hedwig’s cage to the floor, standing atop his trunk and gripping the sidecar to steady him with one hand as he turned to see the battle Hagrid was quickly leaving behind. Broom, Thestrals, and Buckbeak were still flying around, in circles, but his eyes focused on the three Thestrals, knowing one of them carried his best friends.
“Hagrid, we’ve got to go back, we've got to go back!” He hated how his voice shook as he pulled out his wand, squinting to make out which broom held a Death Eater in the darkness. “Sirius get him to TURN AROUND!”
“We can’t do that, Harry!” Sirius called, a jet of red shooting from the other side of the motorbike and hitting a Death Eater racing after them square on the chest.
“My job’s ter get you there safely!” Hagrid bellowed.
“Stop - STOP!”
Three Death Eater’s seemed to rise up in place of the one Sirius had just shot down, firing curses against Hagrid’s back as Harry and Sirius struggled to put up quick shields and sneak a curse back.
“Stupefy!” He yelled out at the three and they parted to avoid the spell, but seconds later a Thestral rose straight through the group, and at the front he glimpsed Professor Jones, raising her wand and casting a massive shield around her group.
He craned his neck and for a few seconds, lit up under the light of the shield, Harry met Draco’s eyes…
Then a vicious explosion of yellow light shattered the shield to pieces, and the Thestral was bombarded with spells as Professor Jones struggled to keep it steady and moving forwards along with Hagrid’s motorbike.
Killing Curses were flying every which way; none of the Death Eater’s seemed to care who they hit, until Harry realized they weren’t aiming for him and Draco, that the spells were flying right over their heads. Their targets were the guides, Hagrid and Professor Jones.
Hagrid slammed his fist on a button on the bike, and a net burst from the exhaust pipe, two managing to swerve away but one getting wrapped around tight, falling behind the rest chase in seconds.
“This’ll do it, Harry, hold on tight!”
“Hestia, watch out!”
The Thestral soared up above the bike as Hagrid slammed the palm of his hand onto the purple button, a burst of bright blue flames of dragon fire fired out from the motorbike, which shot forward through the sky and far outstripped the three Death Eaters, leaving then swerving wildly to try and get out of the way of it’s path.
“It’s all righ’, Harry!” Hagrid called out as Harry was thrown backwards into the sidecar by the sheer force of the spell. Prongs barked frantically and he realized his rucksack wasn't in his hands anymore.
“No…” Adrenaline pulsing through his veins, Harry hauled himself over the side of the sidecar and caught the strap of his rucksack once more, but not before his crup started to slip out of it. Harry was quicker this time, however, grabbing his Firebolt and pushing off out of the sidecar and down into the open sky, scooping up his pet and grabbing his bag in time.
“HARRY NO!” Hagrid and Sirius’s plees fell on deaf ears, and now, as he turned to head back upwards towards the motorbike, it was to find it speeding ahead of him. Wincing, he pushed forward on his broom, plunging forward past the blue flames and after the bike. He was gaining on it too, his Firebolt coming in handy as always, but then he had to of course look up, had to make sure his boyfriend was safe and secure on his Thestral.
But instead he found a broom plunging forwards towards it, heard distantly the sounds of two men shouting, then a flash of bright green light, and the bigger of the two men on the broom fell tumbling down to the Earth.
“NO!” the group riding the Thestral cried but the next moment the person on the broom had their wand aimed at them, and with a flash of green the Thestral was blasted in the chest and began to fall, dead, taking his group with him.
Taking Draco with him.
Without hesitation, Harry dove down forwards and managed to call out, “Levicorpus!” on all of them so that Professor Jones, Ron, and Draco floated feet above the ground before dropping safely onto the snow. Harry landed smoothly and was bounding towards them in seconds as they scrambled to their feet, dropping his rucksack and broom onto the ground in his desperation.
“Draco! Ron! Are you -”
“HARRY!” Ron bounded forwards towards him and grabbed him by the shoulders, and Harry felt again the uncanny valley feeling of looking at his own reflection walking and talking, but had to push it down because Ron’s eyes were wide with horror. “Moody! He got Moody! He killed him Harry! Oh Merlin, he killed -”
“Who killed?” asked, then looked behind Ron at Draco scouring the skies, no doubt searching for the man on the broom Harry was certain now had killed Moody. He himself was running through the groups in his mind. Who had been on Moody’s broom?
He turned to Professor Jones, knelt on the ground, clutching her heart. “Who killed him?!”
Mundungus, and -
“Sectumsempra!”
Snape.
Professor Jones fell backward, screaming shrilly, and Harry ducked as something went flying over his head. When he turned around to see what it was he hardly managed to stop himself from vomiting at the arm laying at his feet, blood all bright against the snow. He didn’t dare turn back around to see what remained of Professor Jones’ shoulder. Instead, he looked up and ahead, at a figure approaching them, sliding off his broom but keeping his wand trained on the four of them, wearing the face of Harry’s boyfriend. But that didn’t change anything - he knew who it was.
Filled with a sudden rush of hatred and disgust, Harry bent forwards and screamed at the top of his lungs at the man. All his built up hatred releasing and turning into a bellow into the night of, “HE TRUSTED YOU!”
“Harry don’t -” Ron’s voice was shaking. His best friend now knew what it was like to see death, and see Thestrals. It wasn’t fair and Snape had done this to him. The man Dumbledore supposedly trusted more than even Hagrid.
Slashing his wand he sent a flash of bright red light Snape’s way. He put up an almost lazy shield in response. Then he shouted, “Confringo!” “Stupefy!” “Expelliarmus!” nothing worked.
Draco suddenly stepped up beside him, pushing him aside, and rose a wand that, under the moonlight, Harry could clearly see the runes carved into it. Dumbledore’s wand, a great act of vengeance.
“Sectumsempra!” He cried, a spell Harry had never even heard of before - before Snape used it seconds ago. But Draco had. He’d seen it while flipping through the Half-Blood Prince’s book. For enemies, it had said. And if Snape knew it too, that must mean -
This time Snape fired a spell back after deflecting this one, causing all three boys to fall backwards, Draco feeling something wet against his head and knowing he’d fallen into the pool of blood Professor Jones was creating.
They were left frozen by the stunning spells long enough to feel sick as all they could do was look up at the sky where the fight still raged on, spells being cast every which way.
Harry had the beautiful, horrific thought that to all the Muggles down here, it might just look like fireworks.
Then this image was interrupted by Snape’s face, or rather Draco’s, sneering down at the group of them.
“You dare use my own spells against me, Malfoy?”
Harry felt his heart drop to a pit in his stomach as Draco went pale as a sheet beside him.
“Yes, I’m the Half-Blood Prince.”
He stepped backwards, and, horrifyingly, the boys heard a sharp crack, indicating Snape had apparated away. Why had he left them alone? Unless more were coming, prepared to finish the job. Unless someone had been waiting on the edge of the fight for Harry to use his signature spell, and Draco to use Dumbledore’s wand.
And they just did.
Soon Harry’s senses returned to him, along with Draco and Ron, but only the two boyfriends sat up and started forwards, Draco grabbing for his trunk and wand, Harry standing and bounding over to his broom and rucksack. However, it was too late. Far too late.
Harry released a scream and stumbled away from his broom and Prongs, halfway out of the bag, barking up at him worriedly. But Harry wasn’t noticing. He was looking forwards, at the plume of smoke that had just landing on the snow, spreading out to reveal a man at the center, his white face gleaming, fingers just as pale raising a wand straight at Harry.
But he didn’t immediately fire a spell, giving Harry time to raise his wand, instead pointing it over at Draco, who winced under his gaze.
“That,” He pointed at the wand still foolishly held tight in Draco’s hand. “Is mine.”
Harry smirked, mentally noting that he’d apologize greatly to Draco for this later, but in the moment, shouting, spreading his arms wide in a taunting manner, “COME AND GET IT THEN!”
“Avada -”
And just as Harry expected it to, for it already had several times in Malfoy Manor, Harry’s wand acted of its own accord, swinging forward like the needle of a compass, golden fire bursting forth and flowing straight forwards towards Voldemort, who shouted in anguish in response.
“Harry!” Harry turned his head, and all triumph he had previously felt at beating Voldemort with the golden flames again left him, replaced with pure horror, for a Death Eater was pinning Draco to the ground, fumbling for his wand.
“Stupefy!” the Death Eater flew off of him due to Ron’s spell, but, meeting the eyes of his best friend, an understanding was met that the Death Eater’s above them would soon reach them all - already they could see ten specks flying down - and wouldn’t rest until they had wrenched Draco’s wand out of his fingertips.
Voldemort was pushing through the flames, but Harry ignored him, instead diving for his broom and bag, all the while shouting above the roar of the flames licking at his skin, “GRAB YOUR STUFF AND GO, RON! DRACO GO!”
He swung himself onto his Firebolt, slinging his rucksack over one shoulder, and kicked off the ground.
“Avada -” Harry made sure to let his wand face Voldemort for only a second, then swinging it with all his might up to the sky, where he watched at least ten Death Eater’s get caught in the flames or otherwise spiral out of the way, giving the group all the opening they needed as Ron and Draco sped ahead of him on their respective brooms.
He turned back, fearing that Voldemort would still chase after them, but he could just see him standing at the center of the golden flames, white face gleaming in their light. What he had to worry about was the Death Eaters still persistently chasing them, but they too were being prevented, as Sirius’s motorbike suddenly soared down in between the fleeing brooms and the pursuing cloaked men.
Harry grinned, and shouted, “Let’s go!” and with a surge of speed the three were flying off. As they approached a road he called for them to lower to the ground, digging into his pocket and pulling out his car and keys.
Dropping the toy-sized car on the pavement, he hopped off his broom and pointed his wand at it, gesturing his friends down. They too jumped off their brooms, cautiously glancing behind them, where the glow of the fire could still faintly be seen.
“Get in.” Harry practically ordered when the car had grown to its regular size, and, no doubt pushed forward by pure adrenaline and fear of the danger behind them, the boys climbed into the back, shoving their trunks beneath their feet, Harry hopping behind the wheel and charging off across the road, swerving every which way in a highly unsafe manner, but they were in the middle of nowhere at midnight. Who was watching?
Certainly not the Death Eater’s above who, as shortsighted as always, were still scouring the skies for boys on brooms, never once considering the Muggle car driving off into the night and far out of their reach could hold what they were looking for.
-*-*-*-
They drove for half an hour, maybe more, then Harry suddenly took a sharp turn that jolted them all sideways into a plain where snow didn’t cake the ground, instead just a shimmering of ice clung to the blades of grass. Without waiting to listen to his friends’ protests he threw open the door and stomped into the open night air, opening his arms wide and releasing a scream that was loud even within the car, where Ron and Draco winced.
Glancing worriedly at each other, they stepped out, the latter kneeling beside Harry, who had fallen to his knees, hugging his arms to his chest, sobbing.
“She didn’t deserve it…”
“I know, Harry,” Draco said, but he really didn’t. He still had Altais, and his stupid eagle owl.
“He trusted him. You told me to trust him!” Without any warning, Harry pushed Draco roughly into the grass, glaring over him.
“What’re you -”
“SNAPE! YOU TOLD ME TO TRUST SNAPE! I TOLD YOU HE WAS EVIL! YOU DIDN’T LISTEN!”
Draco sat up, staring at his boyfriend with wide eyes that indicated he hardly even recognized him.
“Dumbledore told me -”
“Of course!” Harry scoffed, throwing up his hands and getting to his feet to shout at the sky. “Because Dumbledore is always right. Well where are you now, Mr. Mastermind? Not helping me! I’m supposed to be finding Horcruxes and I don’t have a clue where to even start!” In his fury, he kicked a nearby rock, then yelped, falling back onto his backside and gripping his stubbed toe.
Prongs gave a sharp bark and hopped out of the car, prancing over to him and licking at his boot. Instantly, Harry softened, ruffling the hair on his crup’s head. “I’m okay, buddy…”
“No you’re not.” He looked up and met his best friend’s eyes in surprise. Ron rarely spoke up to him like this, always leaning on Hermione. Then again, Hermione wasn’t here, was she?
“Mate, you’re tired, I get it. I’m tired too. Tired of all the times we’ve been tricked. But guess what we can do now that we’re on our own?”
Harry raised his eyebrows, and Ron grinned, leaning forward earnestly. “Hunt for Horcruxes.”
He looked away, running his fingers through his crup’s fur. “I just said I don’t even know where to -”
“Then we’ll find someplace. We’ll work together, like we always do, right Draco?” Harry felt his boyfriend’s hand on his shoulder, and looked up to see him nod his pale blonde head. “That’s right.”
Harry smiled, relieved, as always, to have these people by his side. These wonderful, brilliant, ridiculously loyal friends of his.
“I love you guys,” he said, nuzzling his head into Draco’s neck, and letting him envelop him in a hug in return.