Chapter 35
Listening to Charlie and Prince Viktor discuss who exactly would be charged with carrying Draco back into the castle had the distinct feeling of King Harry pointing out Draco had gone too far. Like, it was all well and good to be silly out on his family estate, or at a masquerade ball, but there came a point where the behavior did not translate to respectable society. And while the king had come around to Draco’s artistic vision, vis a vis Draco invading the king’s bedroom, Prince Viktor just kept staring at Draco with this little stress line in his forehead and Draco didn’t think they would reach agreement on this particular escapade. George was on his feet now, ready to justify their past choices anyway, but Prince Viktor just held out his arms and replied, “but the poor man can’t even walk.” Draco supposed, if you looked at it practically, that was true.
It felt a bit like Draco had been a misbehaving child and the adults were trying to decide how to clean up after him. Also, clearly the prince was here for a very important reason and stopping to handle this nonsense was a colossal waste of time. Draco wanted to be rid of them quite a lot. “We didn’t mean to disturb you. I swear, I’ll be fine, go about your business.”
Unbelievably, the stress line on the prince’s forehead deepened. “What would the king say if we did that? If I left you here and you were further injured, would he not blame me?” His tone was even when he said it, but his eyes stormed. The anger wasn’t exactly at Draco, but it also wasn’t exactly not. Prince Viktor snapped at the other horsemen. “Erik, Yuri, see Mr. Malfoy to his room.”
“Hey, hey, hey!” George hadn’t hesitated to step between Draco and Prince Viktor’s men. “You lugs aren’t going to lay a hand on him. I’ve got a way to transport him back inside the castle, go on your way and Luna and I will sort this out.”
Charlie stepped in to make peace. “This isn’t a fight, George, we’re all here to do the right thing. You want to get Draco somewhere safe, yeah?”
George nearly bared his teeth at the other new arrivals. “You sure the castle’s safe with them?”
Charlie slumped. “Goddamnit, George.”
Prince Viktor barely moved. The changes were nearly imperceptible. A tightened jaw. The deepening of that forehead crinkle. The vague suggestion that his hand moved closer to the hilt of his sword.
“I would appreciate your men’s assistance, your majesty.” Luna’s gentle voice cut through the tension. “We have the most effective chair for Draco, but it is too heavy for me to carry alone. Would your Erik and Yuri be able to assist me in retrieving it, while George stays here with Draco?”
The prince’s hand was on the bridge of his nose, frustrated but far from his sword hilt. “Yes, fine.” He said something in a foreign tongue, Draco assumed his native language of Durmian. Two men, presumably Eric and Yuri, stepped forward as commanded. “Meet us inside with this chair,” Prince Viktor ordered.
“Draco’s not going anywhere,” George started up again.
Charlie ignored his brother and stomped over to Draco. Charlie knelt down so he didn’t loom quite as far over the younger man. “Is it alright if I carry you?”
Draco had grown fond of laying still on the ground, if not of having so many people see him there. How much worse would the scandal be if he was seen carried into the castle by Charlie, arriving with the Durmstang prince? He had half a mind to say no, and Charlie must be able to tell.
“Hermione sent me to get them, Draco. They’re here to sign a treaty so we don’t go to war.”
“War?” Draco squeaked. He regretted it immediately because it was more humiliating than being seen outdoors in his bedclothes. His fashion was eccentric. His fear was cowardly. Draco cleared his throat, hoping it would clear out all his fear-inducing unanswered questions. “I’m not doing well. You’d have to hold me steady.”
“Steady I can do.” Charlie was as good as his word. After the initial jolt of being lifted, Charlie cradled Draco in his arms and it wasn’t so bad. Draco understood why both the King and Charlie had named Charlie the stronger of the two, back at the ball. Charlie’s arms were thick with muscle and under other circumstances it would probably feel good were they to be wrapped around one’s body. In this instance, Draco’s face burned from shame. The prince’s arrival had drawn attention, as had his pause to investigate Draco and his friends. There would be gossip, and Draco couldn’t guess what it would say. The stairs were harder on Draco, but Charlie was as gentle as he could be. The man hadn’t broken a sweat from the effort of carrying Draco, who hadn’t thought himself a small man. Draco almost regretted that he hadn’t liked him more. It would have been easier, to like this kind, attractive man. Probably King Harry had thought that too, at some point.
There were servants who opened the doors and greeted them. The prince announced clearly he had been invited by Hermione, likely trying to get ahead of statements too similar to George’s. Charlie, in his own practical way, gave the doorman specific instructions on which stable hands were to tend to the horses he’d left in the courtyard. They were Charlie’s, and he wouldn’t have the hard journey harm any of his beasts. Draco pinched him so he’d stop laying out instructions to relay to his staff, and instead find a place to put Draco down.
“Please can you see if Lady Hermione Granger is available,” Prince Viktor said to someone important. Draco didn’t catch who, only the pinched glance the prince threw at him as Charlie set him in a chair that may have been meant purely for decoration. “And perhaps Lady Tonks, if you please.”
Ah, he was calling in Draco’s aunt then. Appealing to higher powers. Of course, if Teddy had left Andromeda was sure to have gone with her, only…
“At once, your majesty,” the servant was saying. He wasted no time sending a footman to carry the message.
George crouched down by Draco, not unlike his brother had. “You feeling alright there?”
Draco tried, and failed, to smile reassuringly. “Right as rain.”
“Beautiful. Perfect.” George was bouncing on his heels, doing his best not to unravel in front of all the people. Draco couldn’t recall ever having seen him stressed like this before.
Draco asked back, slow and careful, “Everything alright?”
George’s eyes flickered to the servants close enough they might be able to hear. “Fit as a fiddle,” he assured. This time his eyes flickered the other direction, towards all the Durmstrang men who had taken off their outerwear and were very clearly soldiers. They wore light chainmail and an assortment of weapons. Certainly they were the prince’s escort, but this wasn’t standard travel attire even then.
This crossed a line in Draco’s mind and he finally had to ask. “George, what’s going on with the-”
“-the design for that chair?” George cut him off. It was crisp and deliberate, and only a bit frenzied. “You see, what I did there was add in shocks, like for a carriage. Still learning, mind you, and I could tell it was a bit rough. However, I think if I…” Draco didn’t actually listen to George’s overview of how he would adjust the mobile chair to be more comfortable during Draco’s recovery. He just met George’s hard gaze and got the message that there were things they weren’t supposed to say.
Which was just Draco’s luck, wasn’t it, to be caught up in what couldn’t be said. He should have asked sooner, but there’d been no time with the king, nor on his rushed journey with George and Luna through the castle, or even outside with the prince and his entourage and the tension tight as a noose between them. Maybe if he’d been able to work through the pain he would have had mind enough to chase down these details. For all the good Draco had been at playing games and building his few close friendships, he had never managed to get his head around the politics. And that’s what was here now. Different factions, playing games for higher stakes than Draco could understand.
Had they really meant war? They couldn’t have. The last war had just ended. The country had not yet recovered. They couldn’t be at risk again this soon. But the king had put back on his weapon, and his heir had been sent away. The risk could be real, and if it was, Draco had to figure out his part in all the politics so he could do everything in his power to stop it.
Then Hermione was there! And Aunt Andromeda! And, unfortunately, Dolores Umbridge.
Hermione didn’t hesitate to greet Prince Viktor exactly as one would greet an old friend. It lacked decorum, but did grant her a few seconds to be close enough to him to whisper. Prince Viktor responded as warmly, and spoke with the same booming voice he’d used before to declare how wonderful it was to see his old friend. Not a bit of it was insincere, but it all was an act that even Draco could tell was out of character. No one here could just say what they meant, because something was wrong.
With his one best guess, Draco pegged it on Dolores, who’s beady eyes were watching the younger people in front of her with predatory intensity.
Maybe she could feel Draco’s eyes, because at once she turned all her attention to him. He hissed in air at her hard, narrow eyes that missed nothing. She looked as if she had half a mind to come interrogate him, who knows what for, but at that moment the servants opened the front door again and this time it was Luna leading Erik and Yuri in with the chair.
“What is this?” Hermione didn’t have to feign her interest.
“Get it over here,” George commanded, suddenly back on his feet.
“Draco!” Andromeda gasped, truly only just noticing him. “Whatever are you doing out of bed?”
It was a fair question, and one the gossip mill would delight in spinning answers to. All he could think to do was give them the truth to consider. “I was hoping to see Teddy.”
“Teddy?” If he hadn’t grown to know Andromeda these last three years he would not have spotted all the ways she made that one word a question. Draco had the intense feeling that she simply knew what Draco had meant, and her answer was to Draco’s true question of where Teddy had been sent away to. “He’s upstairs in our suite. If you’re well enough, you can see him now.” She pursed her lips in the end, a sign or instruction that Draco should ask no more on the subject. Not in front of all these people
Draco’s eyes widened but otherwise he held his questions in. He burned to know what George had heard that was no longer true, but Dolores was watching him. The servants were watching him. Hell, Prince Viktor’s guards were watching him. He had no idea who he could trust.
So he said, “I’d like that, thank you.”
Then, in front of everyone, Prince Viktor pitched his voice kindly and suggested, “Why don’t Erik and Yuri take you to Andromeda’s rooms?” In principal the same demand he’d made before, but in this space not even George would fight him on it.
“Thank you,” Draco gritted through his response. He let George and Charlie ease him back into the chair. The prince’s men did not rush half so recklessly through the castle and it was no struggle for George and Luna to stay beside them on the way. The soldiers did struggle with the stairs, but George lent his support and together they all got Draco up two flights while seated. His escorts took him right to the door of Andromeda’s rooms and knocked to request Draco’s admittance. They didn’t let George and Luna through.
Draco grabbed at George’s arm to stop him from arguing. Who knew what this was about, or what it meant.
Draco only knew what the prince had said. King Harry would blame Prince Viktor if anything happened to Draco. If that were true… Draco didn’t want to think too hard about what it would mean if that were true. Questions might bubble out of him that no one would be there to answer. Or worse, Draco would see on his friends’ faces they knew all the answers but they didn’t dare say them.
Draco had to believe answers would come later. He had to believe it.
It was easier to believe when there were more than the questions filling his mind, and just then there was.
Teddy was there, right there, dressed in his undergarments and munching on crackers. He looked up at Draco and shouted. “Draco! Draco! Draco!” It may have hurt when Teddy climbed up onto Draco’s chair, but who cared. Not Draco. He cared for nothing but the soft chubby arms gripping him. This child was love personified, and Draco could be patient and stay out of trouble if that was the part he had to play to keep Teddy and everyone else he loved safe.