An Eventful Hogsmeade Visit
Harry woke up the next morning immediately thinking this must have been what adults felt like after a hangover, because he wanted to puke. He stumbled out of bed and opened a window to let in some air, hoping he was just sick from something in the night, then instantly catching himself and gripping the windowsill at the sight of a familiar blonde boy jogging in his Quidditch robes down to the pitch, waving up at Gryffindor tower as he went.
Harry felt his whole face burn up and stumbled away, slamming the window and running for Ron's bed, shaking him awake and yelling, “Get up we're goin' to Hogsmeade!”
And with a knee to his best friend's side he had sent him rolling over the bed and the thunk woke up the other boys, who all groaned various forms of, “Not again, Harry…”
Downstairs he found the Common Room only slightly busy with the yawning of teenagers, and ran quickly to the window he had last seen Hernione run away from to see that, sure enough, there she was, a jar in her hand, sitting on the windowsill in anticipation for something.
In an instant he had grabbed her by the shoulders and hoisted her to her feet, steering her towards the door while the other Gryffindor fourth year stumbled down the steps.
“Harry! What're you–” “No time to explain we're goin' to Hogsmeade!” He stopped shoving her forwards once they were by the portrait hole, when he turned and waited for Ron, who yawned and stretched while sliding a shirt on.
“Harry, the sun’s barely up, we can’t just--” “I’ve had a pretty bad year, Ron,” The boy said, shifting uncomfortably on his feet and attempting to inwardly shove down the butterflies. “I think I deserve a free pass to do what I want for a day and I’m using it; so, let’s go to Hogsmeade.” Ron and Hermione gave each other a glance, then both reached for where their cloaks had fallen on the couch last night. “To Hogsmeade it is.”
-*-*-*-
“Hermione, I get he deserves a pass but I also think we’ve both had a bad year too. Don’t we deserve a sleep day--”
“We’re doing this for Harry, Ron. Trust me, I had a plan for my day too. But he’s going through something, I can tell. I mean, look at him!” She gestured to the boy in question, who had yipped at the sight of a crowd of green and silver robes and flung himself into Zonko’s, even when it was only Theodore Nott leading his other nerd friends, heads buried in books. “I don’t think he’s well.”
“Might be paranoid. Can you blame him?” Ron prompted as the two left the boy to calm down in the joke shop and started to stroll along the province, something they hadn’t been able to do alone in quite some time. “No…” Hermione mumbled, frowning. “But why? He has nothing to be scared of the Slytherins for. With all this work on the paper the only ones we should have it out for are Pansy and the few cronies that have persistently stuck with her. Speaking of…”
True to her word (and/or speak of the devil) Pansy had just come marching out of honeydukes licking a lolly, arm hooked with her new boyfriend Cassius Warrington--Drace had informed them that Daphne had cut ties with her after she attempted to prank the boys return to the Common Room after the Fourth Task--flanked by the burly Quidditch players and no one else.
One couldn’t say who was the gang leader of the Slytherin house anymore. Crabbe and Goyle had finally managed to detach themselves from both each other and being bodyguards, Gregory now spending a lot of time with Theordore’s nerd friends while Vincent remained close with Daphne and Tracey Davis. But there was no true leader, just Pansy struggling to keep herself afloat.
She disappeared around anothing corner snogging the much older boy and Hermione sighed, shaking her head. “I dunno, Ron…” She then yelped as a series of brooms suddenly flew right above her head far too fast, and glared up at the sky to see two streaks of red and one of green spinning through the air. The green one slowed and she sighed, waving at it.
“Good morning Draco!” She called while Ron gave a half hearted wave, and the speck that was Draco Malfoy waved back. “‘Morning!” He called back then burst off the way he came, Fred and George following close behind.
The two Gryffindor’s turned around then to see their third friend standing at the door to Zonko’s, gripping the door frame with one hand and his heart with the other, looking very festive as his face was a mix between bright red blush and sickly green.
“Oh. Oh no.” Hermione said bluntly while Ron groaned beside her and face palmed.
“It’s too early for this.”
It indeed was, but Harry was their best friend, which is why the two of them went to him anyway, and suggested they go get breakfast at the Three Broomsticks, which he obliged to, sputtering an agreement and stumbling for the large building one shaking legs. Hermione hoped, however foolish it may have been as a prospect, that if they fed him enough butterbeers it would drown his strange love sickness away.
-*-*-*-
The day quickly became a disaster, and Hermione had no idea how she should have expected otherwise.
Firstly, Hermione herself had become distracted all too quickly when she saw a certain beetle flitting around Hogsmeade one too many times, and then abruptly left to chase it, shoving Ron onto Harry and ordering them to buy Draco a gift or something, since his birthday was coming up in June, which Harry seemed quite keen on doing.
Ron was surely going to strangle her when the day was done, but she had more pressing matters and unfinished business to attend to with a bug so it would have to wait.
The next couple hours were spent with Ron dragging Harry from shop to shop, trying to get him interested in buying his friend something, while Harry seemed at a loss for what Draco would actually enjoy, due to the fact that he was a rich and pompous git. He turned down robes and jewelry, he turned down useless trinkets when he knew the boy shopped at Borgin and Burkes, and he turned down the stupid stuff like candy because Merlin knows he gets enough from his mother anyway.
“Harry, do you want to make him happy or advise his life choices?” Ron asked as they sat outside of a small parlor eating lunch, to which the tan boy frowned and glared away at Pansy and her Quidditch boys harassing an innocent group of first years.
He took it as an easy way to get out of the conversation, mumbling, “Be right back.” and charging off to stop her.
Ron rolled his eyes and threw out the wrappings his sandwich had once been kept in, tucking his hands in his pockets and pulling on his color, regretting his choice of wearing his robes out in a bright April, near May morning.
He was stumbling down the streets, kicking up rocks, when he heard the arguing. He searched for the sound, stepping towards the building next to him, but peering through the windows to see it was just an empty, closed shop. Frowning, he stepped back, and was about to give up entirely when he noticed the cellar doors at his feet, and smirked.
“Alohomora,” Ron mumbled, and with a final glance at Harry looking ready to fist fight Warrington, headed down the suspicious but intriguing looking stairs.
Meanwhile Harry grinned with triumph as the group of Slytherins fled, then turned to make a snarky comment to his best friend, only to see for himself the boy was missing. “Ron? Ron?! Ron!” He called around for a few minutes, before summarizing he probably wasn’t in the streets, and heading into the nearest shop; Dewy Badger’s Zooey Emporium.
It was a pet shop, Harry noticed quite quickly, judging by the foul stench of various breeds of animals filling the place and, more importantly, the countless cages of these various breeds of animals. It also seemed to have no soul in sight, the shopkeeper who he assumed to be Dewy Badger asleep on his desk, and no red robes to spot.
Clearly Ron wasn’t here, and Harry was about to abandon the prospect of ever finding him here, when he heard the voice.
“Hey little guy… Oh! You’ve gotten so big! I knew you’d get better. Who's a good boy? Who's a good boy?” It was Draco Malfoy, and he was cooing. At a crup.
Slowly, very slowly, Harry snuck up around a corner and peered through the bars of a bird cage to see the familiar blonde head leaning over a crate of crup puppies--Harry only recognized them from the unit on the creatures they had done after finishing up Unicorns in Care of Magical Creatures--cooing and aweing at them while dumping a bag of kettle into their bowl. He then turned to the crate of Kneazles behind him, and did the same, though now he was making a strange… chirping noise? Some sort of clicking that got the cat's attention well.
And Harry had seen him pet Unicorn foals, hug these little crup puppies while laughing and shoving his friends attempting to make fun of him, but to see him like this, truly happy tending to the animals… In an instant he knew exactly what his birthday gift to him would be.
But for now he was content with watching while his face grew hot, his hands shook, his stomach twisted, and his heart pounded so hard he was sure it would explode. For now he was content to stay frozen to this spot, occasionally blinking, but otherwise glued to the scene in front of him, as Draco Malfoy pulled up a chair and read a book to the gradually peacefully sleeping animals. It was undoubtedly the most endearing thing he’d ever seen.
-*-*-*-
Ron was deeply regretting his life choices and hating this day more and more with each step he took through the dank and dark cellar he now found himself in, because this wasn’t his job, it was Harry and Hermione’s, and yet here he was, snooping around for answers because the other two had become total nutters today. And far be it for him to ask for help from Draco.
Which left just him, inching through a cellar dripping occasionally from the ceilings with Merlin knows what, unable to cast even Lumos for light because he was in no hurry to get caught without even hearing anything.
He stopped when he did finally hear those voices again, coming from behind a wrack of various books, cauldrons, and other supplies, and recognizable. Oh so recognizable.
“--and I want it fast.” That was the disgustingly-similar-to-his-new-friend voice of Lucius Malfoy, which made Ron instinctively whip out his wand then remind himself not to include that detail in his recount of this situation for said friend’s sake. Or his, depending on how Draco would react.
“And what’ll you do if I give it? Go to Dumbledore? My, my, how you have fallen, Malfoy…” But that was Professor Moody’s gruff voice, he’d know that anywhere. What was he doing down here?
“I don’t want to cause any trouble, quite the opposite. I know you're up to something, but it doesn’t have to involve my son, it never did. He’s just a boy. He doesn’t matter to any of this--”
“If he was just a boy would he have survived all these Tasks? If he was just a boy would he be able to beat me in a duel on his tenth lesson? If he was just a boy, Malfoy, then would he have befriended Harry Potter?”
A long pause, which Ron took as his chance to quickly crawl around for a better hiding spot among the wracks of supplies where he could peer through and get a visual as well. Sure enough, there Lucius Malfoy and Mad-Eye Moody stood, alit only by the glow of their own wands, glaring down eachother with sick hatred.
“Leave him be.” Malfoy growled, and Moody grinned crookedly, raising an eyebrow. “Just… Please, tell him to leave him be.” This was in a softer voice, and caused Moody to throw his head back and laugh freakishly, before stopping abruptly when a muscle in his face started to twitch violently.
He grabbed his hip flask and gulped it down, then was glaring at Malfoy once more. “You know you're in no place to make demands. You’re not topman anymore, Lucius, but maybe I’ll be it soon, eh?” And with another chuckle to himself, Moody turned and stomped up the stairs to a door, a familiar clunk following his every footstep, and Malfoy was left alone.
The blonde sighed deeply, rubbed his eyes, then straightened, heading for the door as well. Once he had disappeared, Ron released a breath he hadn’t realized he was even holding, then stood up and tiptoed for the cellar doors, hand now sweaty around his wand, swearing he’d be telling Harry, Hermione, and definitely Draco about this, though he doubted they’d be any too pleased about it.
Once he was outside, he saw one of his friends running through the streets like a madwoman, clapping her hands in the air and chasing a clearly very startled looking beetle, but the other two were still missing. It was here Ron remembered he’d left a nutter-fyed Harry helpless and face palmed.
“Oi! Hermione! Yeah I’m talking to you you lunatic! Why are you chasing a bug? Are you mental? Don’t--Don’t answer that, just--Get over here, I lost Harry.” And, rather predictably, the Granger girl stopped acting like a lunatic promptly and accused her best friend of being a lunatic, which Ron took full offense of, but they set off to look for the lovesick boy anyway, and he resolved to give a very good explanation of where he was later.
-*-*-*-
The four stepped into the Room of Requirement that evening with the resolve that that day had been a disaster--well, not for Draco, he thought it went splendidly, but he also didn’t know he had been stalked for the last couple hours. They all pulled aside a table and chairs into the corner of the room, Hermione cast Muffliato, and Ron began his tale of the very suspicious conversation between Moody and Malfoy.
Once he was done, Draco leaned back in his seat, face dark with thought, and Harry and Hermione were glancing worried looks at everybody.
“Top man… He was the top man for Voldemort wasn’t he?” Harry glanced over at his friend for confirmation, and Draco only grunted, which meant yes, and he wasn’t quite happy about saying yes. They understood, but the bigger problem here was that, “So how is Moody topman now?”
“Maybe he meant topman at the Ministry? Like for Fudge?” Hermione asked while Ron gave his usual awfully timed but not all that bad theories, saying, “Or like… Malfoy’s new role model? You like him more than your dad, right?” to which he got a firm elbowing in the side.
“No, no… He definitely meant for You-Know-Who.” Draco said, his first words since protesting being dragged away from checking the progress of his newspaper and told this frightening tale. “But he… He didn’t seem happy about me befriending you, Harry, did he? Or beating the Tasks… Or him in the lessons…”
There was clearly something deeper on Draco’s mind, something dark, so Harry leaned close to him, hand on his arm, eyebrows raised in question as to what. Somehow, this whole sickness thing he had going on whenever he saw him knew enough to subside when the situation got serious, which he was never going to complain about.
“He knew exactly how someone hijacking the Goblet would’ve done it, didn’t he?” Harry eyebrows went so high they became hidden by his messy hair. “You aren’t saying…” “Malfoy, that's mental!” “Draco… No…”
But the blonde only nodded, Hermione dispelled the Muffliato charm, and the four stood from their seats and turned on their heels, headed straight for the Owlery.
-*-*-*-
Dear Father,
I know everything. I know you’re in Hogsmeade, I know you know how my name got in the Goblet of Fire, and I know you’ve been asking Barty Crouch Jr to spare my life next Task, whom I’ve known for a while now is most certainly alive. But I don’t want to believe this. Not one bit. So you tell me, as my father and as the only person who may know everything going on here and would tell me the truth, is my Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor, Alastor Moody, really Crouch Jr in disguise?
Respond immediately, your son,
Draco Malfoy
Dear Draco,
751
Lucius Malfoy
(The message was translated from Arithmancy code to English in a second by Draco to mean 'yes.')