Coffee Is For The Weak
De Amore Et Bello
Chapter 4
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Previously on De Amore Et Bello:
“I’m saying,” Rosier says, scathing, slightly exasperatedly back before he sighs through his nose and wets his lips, “that people are not as they seem. Just … be careful with your allies, especially those in Gryffindor. Many are loyal to Dumbledore or indebted. If Vasaio is friends with Potter or he becomes friends with them then he could owe Dumbledore a debt too. Potter’s parents owe Dumbledore a debt and Snape, you don’t want to owe Dumbledore. He’s a manipulative bastard.” Severus blinked a little before humming in thought.
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Good.” Rosier returns, nostrils flaring as someone passes by the alcove once more. “You’re not a bad wizard.” Rosier pressed his cloak tighter around himself, slipping out of the alcove, silence as a mouse. “It would be a shame to see such talent wasted.” Severus stays in place for a long moment before he chokes out a breathless laugh before he heads towards the Slytherin common room.
He has much to think about.
🍺⚡💥
Tuesday, September 3rd, 1977.
“I don’t know how he can function without coffee.” Harry comments, watching Percy add some more scrambled eggs to his plate, chatting to someone next to him that Harry hasn’t thought to ask the name of. Across from them, there’s a blonde that Harry had at first mistaken for Draco but then gotten closer, realising he was wearing blue, watching them curiously. He’d thanked whatever deity was out there that he hadn’t begun speaking to them as he’d come closer for the embarrassment would be at an all-time peak if he did. Charlie snorts, almost choking on the coffee he has in his hand.
“He’s always been like that.”
Draco collapses next to Harry, groaning. “It’s called being superhuman.” Draco’s head falls onto Harry’s shoulder. He yawns, big and wide before making grabby hands for Charlie’s coffee that the male hauls closer to his chest. Harry snickers, grabbing a goblet and summoning some for the male, handing off it to the blonde.
“Where’s the twins?” Harry asks. Draco shrugs.
“Probably getting detention.” Draco replies, grabbing the sugar pot and dumping a load of it into his goblet, grabbing a spoon. He stirs it and looks up, watching the entrance. “Here they come.” Fred and George stumble into the Great Hall, cackling as they rush in the direction of the Ravenclaw table.
“Fred! George! I swear to Merlin, I’ll kill you both if you don’t reverse this!” Bill’s booming voice shouts as he storms in after the twins, his hair bright magenta pink. Draco and Charlie burst into laughter as Harry stands, Fred and George throwing themselves behind him. They’re still laughing, panting a little from fleeing from the eldest Weasley.
“Really?” Harry sighs, giggling a little himself. Up close, he can see Bill’s eyebrows are bright yellow. Harry waves a hand and the eldest’s hair and eyebrows return back to normal. Bill summons a mirror, sighing in relief when he sees the results, glaring sullenly at the twins as he stomps to seat himself next to Percy, who hasn’t even looked up from his conversation, unlike his conversation partner, eyes wide. Harry sits back down. The twins seat themselves next to Charlie, George glancing up and setting sight on the blonde male.
“Why hello there again.” George purrs, leaning forward. The blonde sniffs a little, leaning backwards. George leans forward further, eyebrows raising higher.
“Georgie.” Fred warns. George turns to face the male, watching his face work before he pouts and pulls back, tucking his head onto Fred’s shoulder and muttering something to him that has Fred rolling his eyes, smirk on his lips. He says something that has George tugging himself away, punching his twin in the shoulder, causing Fred to snicker. The blonde watches this all unfold in interest.
“Is he a Malfoy?” Harry asks Draco in their forgotten language. The elder nods, eyeing the Ravenclaw across the table.
“He’s fathers youngest brother. He never talked about him, except that his name was Cyrus, and he was a bastard of Abraxas whilst he was married, an example of Abraxas’s infidelity. Though knowing my grandmother, it was only a matter of time before Abraxas strayed, what with the shrew of a woman Belladonna was. Abraxas took him in after he was dropped off on his doorstep—in our timeline, it’s still a mystery on who gave birth to my half uncle.” Draco says back, still not in English.
“Why’d you never mention him?” George asks, leaning over to peer at the two. Fred and the others listen in interest as well.
“I never knew him. He went abroad as soon as he graduated and died a year after that. Father thinks grandmother sent over something cursed in the mail.” Draco says. Percy turns, stopping his conversation with the person next to him to peer at Draco, eyebrows furrowed.
“Did they at least prosecute her for the crimes?” Percy inquires. Draco shakes his head.
“They were in a foreign country. Plus, it was when the war was getting bad, so the Ministry didn’t allow for an investigation, especially considering she was Lady Malfoy, the House being a Noble and Ancient one. In addition to him being out of wedlock and a child of infidelity; he was never given justice after his death.” Draco explains. Eyes dart to Harry when his lips thin.
“That will change.” He says in English. At his tone, George reaches out and squeezes his shoulder, looking into his eyes and smiling softy. Harry grins back, patting the man’s hand gently. “I see the way you look at him. And where you go, Fred follows. I have little doubt he’ll be joining the family in the future.” George blushes. Draco shoots up, glaring at the twin, narrowing his eyes.
“You hurt him; I’ll kill you. In unimaginable ways.” Both of the twins gulp, nodding frantically. Draco smirks and steals a pastry off one of their plates causing George to whine, lurching forward. He ends up smacking his hand against the pumpkin juice and it spills, going all over Harry’s clothes.
“George!” Harry shouts, lurching to his feet, tugging off his robe hastily. George’s mouth has formed an ‘o’, and he stands abruptly, making a run for it. Draco snickers as Fred’s glared at instead, the male hastily following after his brother, ducking the swipe to the head. Harry sighs, stripping off his shirt, ignoring the gasps and squeals from the student body and thanks Charlie as the male hands him a spare shirt, Bill performing a charm that cleans the juice but leaves his skin a bit red. Sighing, for he’ll take it if he’s clean, and tugs the shirt back on, buttoning it halfway up and grabbing his bag.
Draco waves lazily over his shoulder as Harry marches away. “Kick their asses for me, Vasaio, they still owe me ten galleons!” Harry tunes him out, focusing on where he’s going.
He has two twins to hunt.
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When students finally start trickling out of the Great Hall, Draco finds himself standing from the Ravenclaw table, saying goodbye to Percy, and promising they’d finish the conversation they’d been having later, heading over to where Slughorn was still dilly dawdling, chatting with students. Draco looks around, tries to see if Dumbledore’s still there. Finding no such white beard, or stupid, ridiculously bright coloured robes, he solders on to where Slughorn’s standing.
“Excuse me, Professor Slughorn?” Slughorn looks at him, eyes lighting up when he remembers Draco’s performance in Potions the day before.
“Ah, yes, one of my most promising sixth years! Mister—”
“Er, Altair, Draco Altair, sir.” Slughorn nods as if he’d remembered the name the whole time. The student he was previously having a conversation with takes a step back but is clearly eavesdropping. “Right, my friends and I well, we need to go to Gringotts you see and since we had to get a teachers permission to use the floo, and I knew that you were the perfect professor for the job and was wondering if you wouldn’t mind escorting us to Gringotts, sir?” Draco says. Flattery can’t hurt. “Me and my friends, we’re pretty sure we have Lordships and Heirships to start.” And adding in the titles. Draco waits and …
Three …
Two …
One …
Hook line and sinker, Draco thinks as Horace’s brain processes that, lighting up.
“Oh, really, m’boy?” Draco holds back the grimace and nods.
“Yes, Professor. I know that one of my friends needs to accept his Lordship, we were quite shocked to find out it was an ancient and noble house—everyone thinks they’ve died out!” Draco laughs a little. He pretends not to notice the greedy glint in Slughorn’s eyes, the hunger for being known at a lost line coming forth once more, as their Potions teacher and someone in the Slug-Club he could rave about.
“A forgotten line you say? How fascinating.” Slughorn says. Draco nods back, faking enthusiasm.
“I know. We were pretty surprised ourselves.”
Slughorn pauses. Draco can almost see the cogs turning in his head and holds in a tense breath, waiting until Slughorn nods, coming to a decision. “Alright, Mr Altair. I’ll get you and your friends to Gringotts safely. I’m sure Albus won’t mind,” if Slughorn notices his immediate tense up, he doesn’t say anything, but Draco knows it’s likely he didn’t notice at all, “and m’boy, I hope to see you at the Slug-Club soon!” He grins at Draco. Draco’s smile is a bit harder to pull on than before.
“I’m looking forward to it, Professor.” Draco takes a step back. “Thank you. I have to get to class now.” He turns and walks away, meeting Bill outside the Great Hall, relaying the information. Just as Draco did, Bill tenses at the reminder of Albus Dumbledore getting wind of their visit to Gringotts.
“Let’s just hope he doesn’t try to interfere.” As soon as Bill says it, they both know Dumbledore will try to because he’s a meddling old coot who ruins people’s lives, especially if it had something to do with Harry. They walk to their next class.
Let’s hope Dumbledore doesn’t try to stop us, or worse. Getting information about our situations and heirships, lordships could be fatal. Could ruin everything we’re trying to stop, Draco thinks as they wait outside their first class.
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“Headmaster Dumbledore! Headmaster Dumbledore, sir!” One of his favoured Gryffindor students rush over to him from where he was leaving his office. He stares at her as she gets closer, small smirk playing about his lips before it transforms into his usual grandfatherly expression he’s perfected over the years.
“Yes, my dear? What is it I can do for you today?”
“The transfer students—they want to go to Gringotts!” She shrieks, looking slightly manic. Dumbledore feels his white eyebrows rise as the shine in his periwinkle blue eyes go down and disappear then reappears as he ponders the situation in its entirety. “They said that they’re from lost lines and if they’re purebloods—I don’t—I don’t want to get bullied and hurt by them! You’ve got to do something, Headmaster to stop them from—from becoming like the Slytherins—”
“Calm down, my dear, I’ll sort everything out.” He soothes. She nods, gulping back tears. She looks one second away from throwing herself at his feet and hugging his legs close. His face forms distaste before it melts away.
“Okay, okay. Thank you, Headmaster Dumbledore, thank you.” She splits off from him and trips, stumbling before she rounds the corner. Dumbledore makes his way towards the infirmary, Poppy has some potions he needs to question the teachers, to get information he needs about the transfer students. Lost lines could be crucial for his crusade in the Ministry, he needs more seats in the Wizengamot to pass his bills. He’s already been shot down for some his followers have tried to pass and more than one of the laws the dark witches and wizards have passed without him being able to stop it.
With the lost lines, that could stop. He could get his laws passed and he’d get the Ministry in his pockets. He’d get what the idiot Gellert could not—total domination of the wizarding world.
🍺⚡💥
Wednesday, September 4th, 1977.
They’re sitting at the Gryffindor table for breakfast this time. Percy’s wide awake, chatting softly to a still drowsy Charlie and Bill, lecturing the former on not already completing his homework. Unlike Granger where it was threatening and frustrated, each syllable from her mouth making you want to punch her every second, Percy’s reprimanding is soft, filled with exasperated affection. By the time he’s finished, he tells Charlie he’d help him and in the next minutes, they’re bent over the table, heads almost touching as they go over Charlie’s notes so far, Charlie scribbling down things that Percy points to and adds on.
Draco’s head is on Bill’s shoulder and he’s grumbling softly when he gets jostled when Bill shifts, the elder shushing him and handing him a cup of coffee that makes Draco sit up, blinking crusted eyes open. Fred and George are also leaning on Harry’s shoulders, snoring softly. Harry’s smiling, eyes closed, head pressed against Fred’s hair, not asleep but content in the moment.
“Don’t fall asleep, Harry.” Percy says, shaking his head when Charlie asks if he needs to correct anything he’s done so far, nibbling at the end of his sugar quill. Harry cracks one eye open and hums.
“Not asleep. The twins, however, is a different problem.” George snorts in his sleep, snuffling at Harry’s white shirt, shifting. Draco snickers, more awake now that he’s had some coffee.
“You’re lucky they’re not drooling on you.” Draco says. Fred groans.
“Be quiet. I’m sleeping.” Fred turns his head and hides his eyes in Harry’s shoulders. Remus, from where he’s seated two seats down coughs to hide a chuckle, glancing at where James and Sirius are grumbling, eyes squinting at them.
“Moony, why don’t you let us sleep like that on your shoulders?”
“Because you do drool, Jamie.” Remus says. “And Sirius mumbles in his sleep, so I’m not too keen on you too embarrassing yourself, unlike that group, who’s having a wholesome family moments. So, shush.” Harry laughs, pressing his nose into George’s hair. It smells like green apples and there’s a faint scent of eucalyptus leaves.
“Oh, Fred, you’re not supposed to be sleeping, you’re supposed to be eating.” Percy says, interrupting whatever James and Sirius where going to say. Peter’s quiet, yawning every five minutes into his breakfast. Remus is holding a cup of tea, a cardigan over his white collared shirt, outer robe nowhere in sight. “No eat. Harry wake up George, please. He’ll be whining in a few hours.”
“We have a free period today.” Fred answers as Harry shakes George awake gently, handing him a piece of buttered toast, urging him to eat under a watchful eye, handing him a cup of coffee. “We were up all night, creating prank products.” The marauders perk up.
“For your future shop?” George hums, grabbing a piece of bacon with his fingers, ripping into it with an animalistic quality that makes Harry smirk. “And no Harry you can’t pay for it.”
“But I have the money … I think. Plus, we can get the a flat over it and live there.” Harry says, almost whines, baring puppy dog eyes at Fred, making him waver. “Just a little contribution. You can pay for everything else, promise.” Harry flutters his lashes. Sirius groans almost silently so he doesn’t here it. James sends a smirk his way, nudging him pointedly and making kissy faces that gets him smacked around the back of his head by Remus, making Peter snicker.
“Fine, but not all of it.” Fred mumbles. Harry grins at him, winking before grabbing a cup of coffee of his own and grabbing a piece of toast.
“Oh, right, Slughorn’s getting our trip to Gringotts sorted so—”
“Headmaster Dumbledore said you can’t go.” A Gryffindor female says, turning to face them, looking Draco dead in the eyes as she says it, gleaming smugness. Harry makes a face in displeasure.
“Headmaster Dumbledore has no say over us. We’re all legally emancipated, so he doesn’t need approval. In the eye of the law, we’re all adults which means he’s illegal keeping us captive in the castle if he doesn’t let us go to Gringotts. He’ll be facing the wrath of more than one Lord’s and twice the amount of Heir’s. And trust us, if we go to court, he will lose.”
“Headmaster Dumbledore—”
“Is wrong in this case, Miss Green.” Flitwick says as he passes, in that high squeaky tone Harry loves. Draco relaxes. “They have every right to head to Gringotts for what they need. Be sure that if they haven’t gone by the end of the weeks, I’ll be contacting my cousins working in Gringotts and they can come and escort the rightful students to where they need to go.” Flitwick says. Green’s mouth works before she stands, grabs her bag and storms away, marching determinedly. There’s no doubt in their mind she’s heading to Dumbledore.
“Thank you, Professor Flitwick.”
“I recognise a fellow warrior when I see one, Mr Vasaio. Fighting never truly leaves our bones, does it?” Flitwick stares at him, small smile playing about his lips. Harry stills before a similar smile graces his face.
“No, no it doesn’t.” He says, more so whispers it. “You are a magnificent dueller, Professor Flitwick.”
“As I am sure you are. If better.” Filius winks at him and leaves, heading to the Staff table where he laughs at something the Care of Magical Creatures teacher says. Harry turns back to the table, the gobsmacked students staring at him with wide eyes. His friends are barely paying attention, used to the strange events occurring around Harry. Fred’s back to sleeping on his shoulder, snorting every now and then and George’s head is in his arms.
“Something on my face?” Harry asks, touching his jaw. The students dart their eyes away, hastening to go back to normal. Harry snickers and starts eating, mind preparing for the inevitable event of Dumbledore trying to force his way into their crafted plan. But this time, this time he’d be ready. This time he wouldn’t crumble.
After all, he wasn’t just an abused, touch-starved, attention-revelling eleven year old boy who’d do anything he could to fit in. He wasn’t Harry Potter anymore.
He was Harry Vasaio now.