Harry Potter - Series Fan Fiction ❯ Sacrifice ❯ Well, Thank You Hermione. ( Chapter 1 )
[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]
By: Asaka_Sama 
Harry gets a bit tied up, Draco shows his pointy face, curly haired witches learn not to mess with the Boy Who Lived.
Non Anime: Harry Potter - Series Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Action / Comedy | Type: One Shot | Uploaded On: 11.12.2008 | Pages: 5 | Words: 9.2K | Visits: 598 | Status: Completed
Harry gets a bit tied up, Draco shows his pointy face, curly haired witches learn not to mess with the Boy Who Lived.
Non Anime: Harry Potter - Series Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Action / Comedy | Type: One Shot | Uploaded On: 11.12.2008 | Pages: 5 | Words: 9.2K | Visits: 598 | Status: Completed
I hold no claims to Harry Potter. The rights belong to J.K Rowling. No profit is made from this work of fiction.
~~~
“Harry Potter!”
Harry Potter, war hero hailed as The-Boy-Who-Lived and Witch Weekly’s most powerful wizard of the decade, bolted upright with a yelp and fell from his desk to the floor in an ungraceful heap.
Hermione Weasley, nee’ Granger, strolled breezily through the entryway of his study and carefully stepped over a spluttering Harry to sit in the chair closest to the large open windows, situating herself calmly while Harry climbed back into his favorite arm chair.
“Well! I was worried when you wouldn’t answer your Floo for the past few hours, but clearly” here she paused to survey Harry with an amused look while Harry sheepishly retrieved his glasses from the floor,
“I had no reason to worry, other than the usual, of course.”
Hermione carefully settled the stacks of papers she had brought before turning to regard Harry with a piercing look he was sure she had learned from Minerva McGonagall, Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witches and Wizardry.
“Harry,” she said briskly, “have you considered my plan yet? I’ve discussed it with you so many times already, and you keep postponing it. I’m really very anxious to get things in motion!”
Harry cleared his throat and said “Er…Yes! I think it’s, um, splendid. Brilliant job as always Hermione.” Harry smiled in what he clearly thought was a confident I-know-exactly-what-you’re-taking-about manner.
Hermione was unconvinced.
She eyed Harry carefully and was once again was struck by the negative changes she had seen in Harry over the past month or so. Harry had bags under his eyes that she could see through the glamours he wore, as well as the fact that he had lost a noticeable amount of weight from his trim frame. Falling asleep in his study fretting over the piles of work he hadn’t finished, and the mountains of things to do he hadn’t even started only proved that Harry desperately needed a vacation away from the constant demands of his work, the press, and himself.
After Harry had defeated Voldemort, the entire magical community had been nearly beside themselves. The Ministry and Auror Shaklebolt had assumed Harry would join the Auror ranks, and they had assured him that he would, of course, be accepted. They were shocked when Harry turned down the position, stating that he would rather lead a quieter, more peaceful existence. Joining a professional quidditch team was considered and summarily discarded. That life would only add to the constant fan following, and his life would be under more scrutiny than ever. Fred and George Weasley eventually helped him come to the conclusion that he would rather play the part of the silent partner. Harry found companies and causes he believed in, such as the Werewolf Integration Act that led to Remus Lupin becoming legally able to publicly accept the position of Defense against the Dark arts professor at Hogwarts. Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes now owned three shops as well as a kiosk in Diagon Alley’s red light district that sold decidedly more adult products.
Harry was quite happy to help small struggling business that belonged to his friends and causes he was passionate about, but as soon word had spread that Harry Potter was a rich humanitarian, owls came pouring in begging for help from everywhere. It became a full time job for Harry to sort through them all in order to find one that was legitimately a good investment rather than an attempt for a bit of ‘Potter Publicity.’ His friends had begged him to hire a secretary over a year ago, and he had taken their advice. That had all gone pear shaped when the first secretary, a young witch, had sold picture she had taken to the press. Shaken and hurt, because Harry had sincerely liked her, he had refused help ever since. He insisted that he didn’t need any assistance and could do it all himself.
Watching Harry ask Kreacher for tea and only sigh tiredly rather than chastising the surly elf when Kreacher mumbled about ‘filthy mud bloods’ Hermione knew she had to press her point and get Harry out of this toxic situation. Suddenly, she was struck with inspiration. Harry clearly didn’t remember what she had come here for, and she could use this lapse to her own advantage.
“So Harry, you think my idea is a good one? I’ll admit, I was a little worried you might not like it.” Hermione sipped her tea and made sure self doubt flittered across her feature.
“No, no, I think your idea is smashing! I, um …” Harry clearly fished for an adjective here then said triumphantly “I know it’ll be as amazing as everything else you come up with. Don’t know why you didn’t think of it before.”
Hermione hid her smile in her tea cup. “Neither do I, Harry. So, I suppose you’ll sign these papers to give me proper access? I’ll handle everything tonight then come by tomorrow to get you, around ten.”
Harry agreed and signed the documents, obviously confused but trying to hide it as Hermione made idle small talk then made her excuses to leave. The papers didn’t reveal anything about what they were for, and as soon as the green flames of the Floo in his living room had died, Harry sprinted up the stairs back to his study for parchment. He quickly scrawled a letter to Ron, hoping that, as Hermione’s spouse, he would have an idea of what she had in store for him.
Ron,
Hermione is planning something and I haven’t a clue what it is. Please send Hedwig back with an explanation and escape ideas!
-Harry
He gave the snowy owl strict instruction to deliver this directly to Ron, and then sent her off. He paced uncertainly for a while, mulling over the problem he had landed himself into. He was so busy lately that he could barely recall what Hermione could possibly be talking about, and when Hermione sank her teeth into a project, witches and wizards in her way tended to end up with bite marks! Hedwig returned within the hour, carrying Ron’s reply on the back of his plea. Harry stared in growing horror at the words on the parchment.
Sorry, mate. –Ron
~~~
The next morning saw Harry a distracted bundle of nerves wandering Grimmauld Place. Harry tried to work his way through a rude letter demanding galleons and a public appearance at the grand opening but quickly grew frustrated and angrily set aside the papers on his desk. He couldn’t get any of the masses of work done with the question ‘what is Hermione up to?’ mucking about in his mind like a rampaging dragon. He made himself a calming cup of tea that didn’t calm him much at all, snapped at Kreacher, fiddled with the wireless, and watched the grandfather clock slowly count to the dreaded hour.
Promptly at ten, his wards chimed, letting him know that Hermione and two others were at his door. He squared his shoulders, mentally assured himself that he wouldn’t let Hermione have her way, then opened the door and allowed Hermione, George, and Ron inside. Hermione was carrying a large blue suitcase, and Ron had a mysterious satchel. George clapped Harry on the shoulder with a friendly grin. “Hey there Harry! Been awhile since I’ve seen you, not since Ginny’s birthday I think. You hardly ever come down to the shop anymore.”
Harry smiled apologetically, and made his usual excuses while subtly keeping a suspicious eye on Ron and Hermione.
Still, with George distracting him he didn’t see the nod Hermione gave Ron, and therefore was unprepared when Ron suddenly whipped something out of the bag he was carrying and threw it at Harry.
Luckily, Harry still had the reflexes that helped him win the war, and he managed to dodge the object in time. He quickly noted it was a Wheeze’s product, a Tickle Till You Tinkle, and he only had time to think what good would that do-no, it’s a distraction! before George hit him with an Impedimenta and he fell to the floor, bound from head to toe in ropes.
Harry’s wand was quickly confiscated by Ron and he stared at them through the ropes with betrayal and anger in his eyes. Ron rubbed his head uncomfortably but George only grinned and laughingly said “Be glad you ducked that Harry! That one was extra-strength!”
Hermione quickly began to explain, knowing they had a limited window in which Harry would eventually see past his anger and be able to concentrate enough get free with wandless magic.
“Harry, I know you’re angry-“a slew of muffled curses followed this “-but it’s for your own good! You’ve been working much too hard for the past year, and a few months ago you started shutting up in here by yourself much too often. And before you say you haven’t been by yourself,” she said, catching the defiant look in Harry’s eye, “that damned Kreacher does not count as company!”
“Hermione!” Ron said in shock, surprised she could say something disparaging about any house elf, even one as foul as Kreacher.
“Well, it’s true!” she insisted, with a sheepish look. “He’s always muttering under his breath about Harry, and even though you refurbished Grimmauld Place, it’s still a bit…dreary at times.”
“Too right that, Hermione.” George muttered, nudging a growling bearskin rug with his toe, only to quickly snatch it back as the growls grew more menacing.
Ron levitated him to sit upright on the couch, and Harry glared at them as best he could though it was hard to be intimidating when you were tied up in your own home and getting a cramp in your shoulder.
Hermione, flanked on each side by a Weasley, said “Harry, we’re sending you on a holiday to Hawaii, and you’re going to love it! I’ve heard great reviews from several people.”
Harry gave her a look that clearly said you must be joking, and began spluttering angrily and struggling against his bonds. If only he could get to his wand, he could hex Ron, stun George, push Hermione out of the way, then escape through the floo and be free!
Hermione ignored his struggles and said firmly “Here, I packed a suitcase for you. It has everything you need.
“And probably things you don’t need.” Ron murmured. George snickered, but silenced himself when Hermione shot a glare his way.
“I’ve already arranged with the companies you sponsor that you’ll be gone for two weeks, the hotel you’ll be staying in is booked for you, and there’s money and everything else in your bag. The ropes will release one minute after you get there and in case you decide you want to come back a bit early…”
Hermione reached into the satchel Ron was carrying and pulled out several herbs. She sprinkled them in a circle around Harry, began a long incantation, then flicked her wand and pressed it to his heart, then between his eyes against the famous lightning bolt scar. Harry felt the tingle of magic radiating out from where her wand had touched him, and he raised a questioning eyebrow when she finished chanting.
“There,” she said sounding satisfied, “now you won’t be able to apparate or Floo back to anywhere in England. Even if you leave Hawaii you’ll still be on vacation because you won’t be here. Still, I’m sure you won’t leave because I’ve worked so hard to set this up for you. Isn’t that right, Harry?”
The fierce look in Hermione’s face made it clear that Harry had better enjoy it, or there would be a price to pay.
Ron placed the suitcase, Harry’s wand, and an ugly yellow paper weight portkey in Harry’s lap then patted him on the shoulder. Harry moved away from his hand and let the hurt and confusion show on his face. “Hell Harry,” Ron sighed “Don’t you see what we see? You look terrible mate. I haven’t seen you look so tired and out of sorts since the war. You’re twenty-two but you don’t date, and you hole up in this house without seeing any of us. We just want what’s best for you, and it’s our job to make sure you get it.”
“If you’re still mad when you come back, you can punch us, Harry. We’ll accept it and won’t do it again.” George said.
Hermione checked the time on the grandfather clock and said “The port key will activate in three…two…”
Harry didn’t hear one, because the familiar hook was in his belly, and he was pulled off from the comfort of his home in thrust into a vacation he hadn’t asked for.
Day One
Harry arrived in the lobby of a hotel that was clearly for the very rich. The décor was tasteful dark wood and cheerful green, with a huge skylight letting in the sun light and color changing palm trees in every corner. The hostess didn’t seem surprised to see a trussed up Harry Potter arrive suddenly and once the ropes had fallen off, she ushered him to a large, spacious room with an attached bath and excellent view of the beach. She explained that the island was purely of the magical community, and hidden from the eyes of Muggles. Magic could be cast freely, but she asked that higher level spells be kept to a minimum, as it inferred with Muggle airplanes that may fly overhead. After she left, Harry sat on the king sized bed and tried to calm himself before his magic broke something or made the carpet catch fire.
He knew very well that there was no use in trying to go home. Hermione was always true to her word, and if she stated he couldn’t apparate to England, then that was true. He stood and gazed out the window, taking in the sight of clear blue skies and a gorgeous ocean. It is very relaxing, he thought. Maybe I do need a vacation. I wish they had gone about it better, but… It was very hard to argue when he suddenly felt as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He rummaged through the bad and found that Hermione had indeed packed everything he needed. After unshrinking toiletries and a change of clothes, he took a long hot shower in a bathroom big enough to house a family and headed for the beach.
Day Four
Harry sighed happily, digging his toes into the sand and feeling warm sun on his bare shoulders. He had recently finished a whale watching boat tour and was now sitting in a cabana on the beach watching various families mill about with their children and spouses. Hawaii was amazing, with perfect weather and a relaxed atmosphere that he couldn’t help but enjoy. All he had to do was lay back, snorkel, and amuse himself with sights of brightly colored fish. There was no work to grow grey hairs over, nothing to annoy him except sand in uncomfortable places. Everything was per-
“Potter!”
Harry stiffened, feeling all the charms of holiday away from his troubles on a paradise melt away in seconds. No, he thought, no it simply can’t be Draco Malfoy. I’m a good person and I don’t deserve that.
He turned slowly, and leveled his fiercest glare at the blonde git that had been scum on his shoe since before his voice changed.
“Malfoy. What do you want?”
Draco Malfoy, ex Death-Eater, rich aristocrat and known in Harry’s mind as the Man-Who-Lived-Despite-My-Attempts-Otherwise slid in the chair opposite Harry as though he belonged there and it was not at all out of the ordinary to engage life-long enemies in idle chats.
“Potter, I believe the correct way to greet someone is by saying ‘hello’ or ‘how are you?’ or something to that effect.” Malfoy drawled, deliberately turning himself to catch the light and dazzle the pretty witches at the bar.
“Not,” Harry said firmly, “to scum like you. The correct way to greet you would be saying ‘get the hell away from me’ or maybe to break your jaw.”
“How plebian of you Potter, to resort to violence to solve your problems.” Malfoy drawled, raising an eyebrow and beckoning the server with a twitch of his hand. She rushed over, and began efficiently taking the blonde wizards order. I’ll bet it’s delivered in seconds as well thought Harry darkly. The Malfoys, for all the war had tarnished their name and social standing, was still very rich and widely known. At Ministry functions that Harry had been coaxed into, he often saw that Malfoy was catered to by sycophants or were willing to ignore his family for a chance in the spotlight, and unlike Harry, Malfoy loved every minute of the simpering attention.
Draco Malfoy escaped charges for his war crimes by switching sides and becoming a spy for the Order of Phoenix, much like Severus Snape had years earlier. His mother, Narcissa Malfoy, had never taken the Dark Mark and had managed to squeeze the Ministry into granting immunity in exchange for access to Malfoy Manor for a time just after Voldemorts death. Lucious Malfoy, however, hadn’t been able to escape as his family had and was Kissed for his crimes. Draco Malfoy went on to open a shop with Snape on Diagon Alley selling potions he had improved upon or invented. He did this business simply for the enjoyment of it, he stated, and many of his very useful potions were used in the capture of the remnants of Death Eaters. One potion that Harry knew of was very useful for the Aurors, as it burned like acid only when in contact with skin that had been Dark Marked. None of this made Harry like, or tolerate the presence of Draco Malfoy.
“What are you even doing here, Malfoy? I would think you’d be in, I don’t know, France or Italy.” Harry was taken back when his words caused Malfoy to laugh in a manner that wasn’t derisive or mocking. He narrowed his eyes, taking in the unaggressive lines of Malfoys body and wondering what the hell was going on here.
“I often vacation in Hawaii. The atmosphere is very relaxing, don’t you agree? My mother is in France though, Angers to be precise. How very astute of you to notice that France is her favorite holiday spot.”
Harry wrinkled his nose as the server returned with a brightly colored drink and handed it to Malfoy. Malfoy flashed a charming smile at the waitress, and Harry was disgusted to note that she promptly reddened and giggled as she went to serve other tables.
Harry stood abruptly and turned to leave, determined to enjoy his holiday without any interference from gits like Malfoy. He was sure Hermione was unaware of Malfoys presence on the island, or she surely wouldn’t have sent him here. Malfoy has a way of ruining everyone’s plan, it seems.
“I believe you meant to say ‘goodbye’ before you left so rudely Potter, but you needn’t worry about offending me!” came Malfoy’s sharp voice from behind him as he exited the cabana. Harry didn’t answer, and instead headed to his room. A long soak in the hot tub was exactly what he needed to deal with Malfoy-related stress!
Day Seven
Harry surfaced with a gasp, laughingly shaking water from his face. It was very late, past midnight, and he was enjoying a swim while the beach was deserted. The sky was clear, the moon was half full, and it had occurred to him looking out his window that now was a perfect time to enjoy the warm waters. And a perfect time not to see Malfoy, he thought, floating on his back. Lately Malfoy had been everywhere, flitting through doorways, eating at the buffet, strolling through the sand… It was driving Harry crazy to watch people fall over themselves to assist him! He felt vindicated, though, as the people who took one look at Malfoy, recognized him for what he was and turned their backs to him.
Harry saw a glint of something from the corner of his eye, and he swam a bit closer to get a closer look. The woods began behind the hotel, and that was where the soft light was coming from, so he swam to shore and slipped on his sandals to go take a closer look. He let his curious nature guide him as he slunk closer, letting himself get caught up in the fun of ‘tracking’ the mysterious light. It looked like a lumos. He dropped behind a thick frond and peered around it, and was shocked to see someone cast a patronus charm. The sudden light blinded him for awhile, but he noted a silvery hyena run past him and disappear into another wing of the hotel behind him. Soon a female figure ran quickly out of the hotel and headed towards the light.
“Were you seen?” said a breathless voice. A woman, American and young as far as Harry could tell. Through the shadows he could see the curve of a round cheek and curly hair.
“No, of course not.” Said another voice, this one male and confident. The accent was British, and sounded vaguely familiar to Harry. As he struggled to place it, the two figures moved closer together and embraced. The woman giggled and the man murmured in a sultry voice “Are you prepared? I think it’s going to be very soon, pet.”
“God, I’m so excited! I’ll cast the privacy wards now.” giggled the woman, and Harry took that as his cue to leave.
Harry safely escaped, amused at his encounter with the couple in the woods. Clearly they were sneaking off for some fun outside near the beach, and Harry found the idea understandable. It was beautiful out, and if he had someone special, he would probably indulge himself similarly. He returned to his room, showered the sea water off his skin, and crawled into his magically warmed bed. Still, despite the buttery soft sheets and downy pillow, he felt the lack of what the couple outside had. He had tried dating women he had been attracted to, but often those relationships didn’t last very long. He often found publicity overwhelming, but he had been dealing with it for nearly eleven years. Dates found themselves followed to their homes, gyms, favorite restaurants and while walking their dogs. The two most common reactions were to lap it up, which Harry hated, or break it off with him in order to keep their privacy intact, which Harry couldn’t blame them for. He hadn’t seriously dated in over a year, and the lack of company, as well as regular sex, was beginning to rankle.
Harry, summoning up his famed determination, put those thoughts out of his mind. He was on holiday and damned if he wouldn’t enjoy it!
Day Ten
Harry was enjoying a first rate breakfast when there was a knock on the door. He answered to find a host there with a letter from him. It was from the entire Weasley family, and it was filled with anxiousness over whether Harry was enjoying his holiday in Hawaii. He replied that they had been right, and that his holiday was going excellently. He started to add a grumpy note that Malfoy was here, then crossed it out, annoyed that Malfoy was even attempting to enter his letter. He signed the letter, and then went looking for an owl to send it with.
The hostess gave him a pretty, brightly colored bird of a species he couldn’t identify who chirped merrily at him as he tired the letter to its leg. As it flew out of huge skylight in the lobby, he reasoned that now was a perfect time to try his hand at fishing. He was going to try it the Muggle way, so he didn’t expect to catch much, but it would be fun to sit in the sun and laze about all day. The dark haired wizard gathered his gear and made his way to the beach, only to bump into Malfoy reading under an umbrella near the dock, looking crisply well-dressed and aristocratic as usual. Harry decided to make this encounter as quick as possible, and gave Malfoy a brief nod as he walked past to find another spot to fish.
“That’s the only acknowledgment I get, Potter? After so many years or knowing each other, I certainly think that-“
Harry whirled and stepped closer to Malfoy, letting the annoyance he felt show clearly on his face. He summoned up his magic, letting it dance just under the surface of his skin and letting the air warm slightly around him, knowing Malfoy would feel it clearly. He remembered how Malfoy was almost in his letter to the Weasley’s, which would have ruined the letter entirely, and felt his anger irrationally grow about something Malfoy didn’t have an active hand in.
“Do you have something to say, Malfoy? Other than your usual mocking comments and insults about my friends, that is?”
Malfoy’s gray eyes met Harry’s squarely, and he paused a heartbeat before saying lowly “You’re confusing me with who I used to be years ago, Potter. Have you heard me do anything of that sort in years?”
“No,” Harry said savagely, “because I make every effort never to see or hear you do anything at all.”
Malfoy raised a singular eye brow, and that motion filled Harry with the need to put his fist in Malfoys pointy face. “Can you even raise the other eyebrow?” he snarled.
Malfoy smiled suddenly, taking Harry off guard and said “Why yes I can.” He demonstrated, then said lightly “Can you do something I’ve never seen you do, Potter?”
Harry was still very close to Malfoy, but it was hard to tower threateningly over someone who refused to be cowed, and responded with mirth instead of fear. Harry made an entire school career of studying Malfoy, so he could be informed of when the surprise hallway ambushes would occur, or if Malfoy was in a “filthy mudblood!” or a “poverty stricken weasel!” mood that day, but this was different somehow. He knew Malfoys’ emotions could not be read in his eyes, face, or body language-he was too groomed for that- but the way he presented himself allowed for clues to what he though. The way he approached things revealed what he thought if you knew him well enough, and the fact that he was letting Harry control this interaction and not respond with the expected hostility was throwing Harry off balance. Maybe this new facet he was seeing in Malfoy was because the usual settings, Hogwarts and later, the war, were no longer in play.
Harry took a step back, and regarded Malfoy, who was still directing that challenging smirk his way. “Something you’ve never seen me do?”
“Yes,” said Malfoy. “I’ve never seen you look at me like a person and treat me as such. You give killer bees more regard than me.”
“Killer bees are much nicer than you on your best day, you git.” Harry snapped.
“Are they? I haven’t had enough conversations with killer bees to find out. I suppose the devotion to each other would be appealing to someone like you.” Malfoy said archly, and Harry couldn’t keep his eyebrows – both of them- from shooting up nearly to his hairline. Merlin’s wand, was that a joke from Draco Malfoy? On a sudden whim, he let the magic that was still just under the surface expand outwards as he said “Finite Incantum!”He stood, waiting for the spell Malfoy had hit him with the release, only to frown when nothing happened.
“Oh dear, I haven’t tried to daze your wits with a spell? Will Earth ever recover from the gasp heard ‘round the world?” Malfoy eyed his gear and said “Ah, fishing are you? Enjoy your activities. I believe I have a massage scheduled around now.”
“Okay Malfoy, um, goodbye then.” Harry said awkwardly, a bit thrown by the surprisingly civil conversation he had just been involved in with the blonde wizard. As Malfoy put a bookmark in his book and began to shrink his umbrella, Harry heard two very familiar voices laughing to his left. He turned quickly to see the couple he had seen a few days’ prior holding hands and smiling at one another. The woman was pretty, with flaxen curls and a big smile. The man Harry had heard was short, and was wearing a shirt that glittered lightly in the morning sun. Harry heard Malfoy gasp, and turned to face him. He frowned as he saw Malfoy standing dumbstruck, staring at the couple with a slightly sick expression on his face. He caught Harry’s eyes, and before he could ask Malfoy what was wrong, Malfoy whirled and strode quickly away without a word, back stiff with tension. He was going to need that massage, what with all the stress of being a moody prat, Harry thought. Seeing people happy must stick in his throat.
He glanced once more and was exasperated to find the squat mans’ eyes locked with his for a moment, clearly star struck. The woman actually squealed, looking shocked and he gave them a quick smile before beating his own hasty retreat to better fishing before she regained her wits and asked him to sign anything.
As he fished, he tried for a moment to remember where he knew the man, but figured he had simply seen him about Diagon Alley once or twice.
Day Eleven
It was just past noon when Harry started at the knock on the door, and then rose to answer it. Harry took in the sight of the slim, honey skinned woman with masses of dark hair spilling in an enchanting tangle down her back and felt immediate interest.
The woman blinked and said “Oh! I’m sorry, this is the wrong room. Hey, you’re Harry Potter aren’t you?”
Americans really are blunt, he thought, but also friendly and engaging, so it’s hard to even be offended. It’s even harder when it’s a gorgeous witch with the prettiest hair I’ve ever seen.
He nodded at her question and grinned invitingly, saying “It doesn’t seem fair that you know my name when I don’t know yours, yeah?”
She lowered long, dark lashes coyly and tilted her head, letting some of the shorter wisps of hair brush her cheeks. “I’m Iokina. I was actually looking for someone, but I’ve clearly gotten the room number wrong, unless you’re hiding Draco Malfoy in there.”
Harry’s sudden scowl clearly surprised her, because she asked snapped from flirtatious to alert, asking “What’s wrong?”
“No, it’s nothing Iokina! Malfoy and I just don’t get along is all. I’m surprised you know him.” Harry said quickly, trying to regain his footing. Malfoy again, popping up as I talk to fit lasses! Is nothing sacred?
“Oh,” she said slowly, “I know him because I live here, and he’s been coming now and then to visit for years. I guess there’s no point asking if you know where he is, huh?” She laughed again at his incredulous look and said “Well I guess that’s my answer!”
“Sorry not to be of more help, Iokina.” He shrugged casually, and then considered for a moment before plunging in feet first by saying “What are you doing later?”
“After I find Draco and finally give him his overdue massage, you mean? Probably bumming around, doing nothing important. Do you have any suggestions, Harry?”
“I do, indeed. How about dinner later today and some snorkeling?” Harry offered, leaning casually in the door frame of his room.
“I have a better idea,” Iokina said brightly “why don’t you come by the massage parlor after my shift and we can take a helicopter tour?”
They agreed on a time and place, and Harry couldn’t help the goofy smile at the thought of a date with Iokina. He decided to kill time walking along the beach, watching the sun dip below the sky line, digging his toes into the white sand and letting the sound of the ocean wash over him. Here in Hawaii, the war weren’t so near and personal, and the public didn’t fawn at his feet any more than the average celebrity. It was a refreshing change, and he intended to enjoy it. Maybe he’d even extend his holiday a bit, and travel to other places. He always thought Greece sounded fascinating, and maybe a trip to Switzerland…
He had reached the thick stand of trees where the couple first caught his attention, and he noticed it was getting quite dark out. Harry turned to walk back and get ready for the helicopter ride with Iokina when a familiar, unpleasant tingle ran up his spine. Someone had just cast an incantation he knew very well, so well he could tell when it was being cast anywhere around him.
Crucio.
Harry whirled, wand in hand, and wished fervently that he had his invisibility cloak. He cast a strong Disillusionment, a Supersensory charm, and Silencio on himself, then glided closer, using the superior senses the Supersensory charm gave him to see in the waning light.
There was nobody there, he couldn’t see or hear anything, yet he knew he hadn’t imagined the unique magical signature of Crucio sliding over his skin. He had been sensitive to this curse ever since the war and he had never been wrong. He stopped at the sudden feel of danger before him, as a sudden need to go check on something else where washed over him. Wards, he thought grimly powerful ones. Someone is trying to hide something in these woods. I can’t do this alone, but first I need proof, legitimate proof that something is going on.
He pressed gently on the wards, gently enough to hopefully not bring attention to himself by those who had cast it. He froze momentarily as the dark, slimy feeling of someone casting crucio before grimly returning to his task. He finally found an area near to the ground where the wards were slightly more brittle. He immediately began working on it, trying to widen the space until it was a hole big enough to fit him.
He had widened the hole enough to hear what was happening inside, and he quickly set his wand to record and began carefully listening to what they were saying as he widened the hole further. It was a male voice, screaming. Malfoy? Harry thought with shock, and suddenly remembered what Iokina had said earlier when she first knocked on his door. ‘I was actually looking for someone’ and after that when he had asked her on a date ‘after I give him his overdue massage’ which means he never went to the massage yesterday when I went fishing. He’s been captured for nearly two days.
The hole was finally wide enough for him to slip through, and Malfoys screams had tapered off. Now there was only derisive laughter and jeers, someone was calling Malfoy a “little lamb” and hooting about leading him ‘to the slaughter.’
With a sinking heart, Harry realized his Saving People Thing was rearing its ugly head. He was going to have to get Malfoy out of here, now.
Hell, Malfoy, he thought, You really do ruin everything.
~~~
Harry silently crept forward, eyes open and ears sharp for any sound of discovery. He came quite suddenly upon a group of black robed figures standing around an altar. Death Eaters! Not many of them though, just a remaining few who haven’t been caught by the Ministry yet. I see seven, but I think there are more just in the shadows. It was clearly set up for some sort of ritual, as he could see in the faltering light of sunset, and had a cage set to the side. There was a symbol drawn on the floor in what disturbingly seemed like blood, and the cloying smell of incense filled the air. Suddenly it dawned on him that this was all very familiar. Blood stained heavily jeweled knife? An altar that nearly vibrates with bad intention and despair? And I’m fairly positive the full moon is tonight as well. If they’re waiting for it to reach its peak, like most rituals call for, I’ve only got a short time to get Malfoy, and then get help.
Harry cast a silent Patronus, gave it the strict message to wait a half hour before raising the alarm to the proper officials on the island, strengthened his Disillusionment and stayed to the shadows, grateful that he was wearing dark colors. He focused on the feel of Malfoys magic, letting it led him to an area that looked as though the Death Eaters had simply burned away all the trees, leaving a circle of charred trees standing like silent corpses around the clearing. Malfoy was lying there, dressed in a white robe embroidered with symbols that glowed black, washing the color from his skin and casting shadows that made him look like an Inferi.
Harry was shocked to see Amycus Carrow giggling hideously as he twirled his wand with his fat fingers. He looked strangely familiar, and with a jolt, he realized that this was one-half of the couple he had seen in the bushes and on the beach. Clearly what he thought was a romantic tryst was a meeting, in order to plan this dark sacrifice. His face had likely been hidden under various glamour spells, but Harry had recognized his voice. He hadn’t known him well enough to see through the glamour, but obviously Malfoy had. That day on the beach, Malfoy had left as though hounds were on his heels, but clearly not fast enough. Carrow must have had time to realize that he and Malfoy were both on the island.
“Pretty Draco,” Carrow crooned, nudging him with his toe “I had such high hopes for you. You were so talented in school, such a perfect little sheep. Eager to follow, happy to cast Crucio after Crucio on your classmates! That was such a wonderful year for us, eh, Draco?” Carrow sighed, and circled Malfoy examining his prey with obvious glee. He seemed entranced by the glittering defiance in Malfoy’s face, and he leaned closer, close enough to Harry couldn’t hear what he said next. Whatever it was, it was horrifying, because the constantly poised Malfoy actually flinched, and that was when Harry acted.
“Duro!” he hissed, filled with righteous anger, and Carrow didn’t have a second to react as he was turned to stone. Harry cast a Silencio on the entire clearing then rushed forward, intending to get to Malfoy and free him, but he was startled as a voice yelled “Stupefy!”
A red light flew over his ear close enough to shave off a few dark hairs. He whirled to find the other half of the ‘couple’ staring at him with a snarl, dark robes trailing the ground and curls bouncing as she turned to make herself a smaller target.
“Who are you?” he growled, trying to see if the cherubic face was the result of a glamour, or if this was simply a Death Eater he hadn’t had the ‘pleasure’ to meet yet. He made sure to keep himself between her and Malfoy, who still was bound and gagged, though he was wisely scooting backwards away from the fight.
“My name isn’t important, Potter! My loyalty is what’s important! I wasn’t able to meet the Dark Lord, but Amycus has told me about him and I’m anxious to prove myself!” she sneered, and pointed her hand at Harry, who tensed immediately, ready to dodge at any moment. “I’ll start proving myself by giving him your head on a platter! Avada Kedavra!” She screeched. Harry dove to the ground wincing as his wrist struck awkwardly, and rolled through the leaves back up to his feet casting a quick Diffindo at the cackling witch. It sliced through her hand and she screamed, dropping to her knees.
He hit her with a stunner, then had a serious moment where he considered whether or not to heal her bleeding stump. It was more then she deserved, but Harry had experienced enough death during the war. This is why I never became an Auror, thought Harry; a life under fire isn’t what I had in mind. He cast an episky at the Death Eater witch, then went to attend to Malfoy, who had propped himself up against a tree and was watching with wide gray eyes. He was bleeding from a split lip and shaking from being under the Cruciatious, but he seemed to be alright.
A quick diffindo released Malfoys bonds. Malfoy stood shakily, and Harry quickly took his elbow and guided him behind to the nearest charred tree. He cast episky on Malfoys bloodied face and bruised ribs, then cast a Notice Me Not and Silencio on Malfoy’s feet so they could sneak away.
“Saving me, Potter? I can hardly believe my luck.” Malfoy said in a voice that strove for casual and came across as shaky.
Harry recognized the statement for what it was, and choose not to comment on the herbs he could smell on Malfoy, which signaled he had been prepared for sacrifice. Amycus Carrows’ torture had likely been to make Malfoy more pliant before the actual event, and if acting like that wasn’t as horrifying as it clearly had been was what Malfoy wanted, Harry would give it to him.
“Malfoy,” Harry said calmly, grasping Malfoy by the shoulders and forcing his eyes away from the altar and other Death Eaters he could just see through the trees and back to Harry. “Are there any other sacrifices?”
“Yes, only I don’t know where they are. Not here though, I think.” said Malfoy, “I was to be first. They think I’m a traitor to the cause, and this was going to be my punishment. They’re trying to bring the Dark Lord back.”
“They can’t! I killed him. He’s really, truly dead now.” Harry began to lead Malfoy away from the clearing of dead trees and away from the altar. They picked their way carefully, trying not to alert anyone of Malfoy’s escape, though it was only a matter of time before they notice his absence.
Malfoy shook his head, dirty blonde hair flying as he did. “No Potter, not his body, just his soul into a different vessel. I don’t know who they chose; they didn’t tell me much while they…had me.”
Harry snorted derisively. “Ha! Good luck to them. His soul was split by his own hand. Clearly he didn’t tell his followers that, of they’d know this entire ritual is useless. Who are the Death Eaters behind this?” Harry said, leading Malfoy closer to the edge of the barrier looking for where he had come in. He heard the alarm being raised behind him, and after a quick exchanged look with Malfoy, they both sped up.
“It’s mostly slytherins from our year!” Malfoy panted, a hand pressed to his side as they jogged through the woods, staying low. The sun was gone now, and the moon was fat and hanging low in the sky. Harry said nothing, quickly making for the hole, praying it hadn’t been discovered by an attentive Death Eater, and then they were there. They tumbled through the hole, and Harry breathed a mental sigh of relief. Now they needed to make it to the hotel, and get Malfoy professional medical attention. What he wouldn’t give for Madam Pomfrey! Harry paused for a moment to cast the strongest Anti-Apparition spell he could on the clearing behind him he could before catching up to Malfoy.
“Harry,” Malfoy said and Harry started, surprised to hear his name from Malfoy, “I thank you for this. I know this rescue may simply be the result of all the red décor in your life, but –“
“Look, Malfoy” Harry interrupted, “My home is decorated in shades of blue, and I wouldn’t leave anybody to be sacrificed. You don’t have to thank me. I’d prefer if you didn’t, actually, because it’s strange to have you acting so nice toward me.”
Malfoy lifted the edge of his robe to step over a rotten log, and Harry snorted at the sight of shaved legs. “They shaved your legs Malfoy?”
“Legs? I was a sacrifice”, Malfoy said dryly “they shaved everything.”
Harry had nothing to say to that, but the look on his face said it all. Malfoy chuckled, only to wince as his ribs ached. Harry renewed the Silencio on both of them, and continued to carefully survey the area. The yells from the Death Eaters looking for Malfoy weren’t getting any louder, and they didn’t sound very organized. The enhanced senses from the Supersensory Spell weren’t helping him find the hotel, which was one of the only structures on the magical island, because it made it seem as though the ocean sounds were coming from every direction. Damn island! He thought, trying not to let on that he wasn’t quite sure of where he was going. Malfoy eyed Harry for a moment, then said “You do have help coming, don’t you Harry? Please tell me this wasn’t a one-man rescue that you just dove into.”
“Does it seem that way?” Harry mused; trying to decide which way was back toward the beach. He really wasn’t sure if this was the right way, but damned if he wasn’t going to pretend he knew.
At Malfoys dark look, he grinned and said “Relax, I’m not an idiot.” He ignored Malfoys grumble and said “I sent my Patronus ages ago. They should be arriving any minute now, and they’ll get the Death Eaters rounded up and the sacrifices back home safely.
They were silent, and Harry realized he could hear authoritative voices in the distance. Malfoy couldn’t yet, obviously, but they helped orient him in the right direction. Malfoy gave him a suspicious look when he abruptly led them in a different direction, but he didn’t say anything.
“So it was only me you helped then, Harry?” Malfoy asked suddenly, just before the American Aurors were in sight.
“Yeah, you can put it that way.” Harry said simply, before he had to identify himself and Malfoy to the authorities, and then there was no more room to talk.
Day Twelve
Harry woke up in the Infirmary Wing, wearing only his trousers and with an itchy splint on his wrist. Ah, memories. I spend too much time in the company of Mediwizards and Mediwitches. Eventually every Healer in the world will know me on a first name basis.
He didn’t thing he had been hurt badly enough to warrant a stay overnight, but the Healers had insisted. He had fallen into an exhausted sleep nearly as soon as he knew the other sacrifices were safe and the Death Eaters rounded up. Malfoy had also been led to the mini hospital inside the hotel and given several potions that he felt the need to complain about loudly. Harry hadn’t even had a chance to contact Ron or Hermione, but he hoped once he told them about this they would consent to lifting the geias and letting him return to England. After all this excitement, he ached to be home, though he was sure this would be splashed all over Witch Weekly very soon.
He decided not to put on his glasses and sighed, taking a moment to luxuriate in the silk sheets against his skin.
Note to self: I should own silk sheets.
“Hey, Malfoy?” he said, looking at the ceiling. He heard the rustling of the bed next to him, and frowned when Malfoy didn’t answer. “Malfoy!” he snapped.
“Potter, some of us are trying to sleep. I’ll have you know I’ve had a very trying ordeal!”
“I was just wondering, what were the requirements for becoming a sacrifice? You don’t seem like a very likely candidate. I remember all the other sacrifices were young, virgin girls. So, why you then?” Harry asked, putting his hands behind his head.
“Is it not enough that they’re evil and wanted to kill me for being, as they called it, a traitor to the cause? Must you be so callus of my feelings Harry? I could be very fragile at the moment, you know. I may cry.” Malfoy drawled, sitting up and looking quite unconcerned for one in hospital issued pajamas.
“Don’t be a git, Malfoy. I really want to know.” Harry said, refusing to rise to the bait.
There was a pause, and suddenly Malfoy stood up, walking to Harry’s bed to sit at the foot of it. Harry still didn’t look away from the ceiling as he felt Malfoy’s weight settle at the foot of the bed.
“I suppose they didn’t kill me outright because the incantation calls for ‘a beauty bathed in sage and draped in white, untouched by the converse’ or something to that degree.” Malfoy studied his nails and lightly placed the other hand on Harry’s ankle.
Harry mused over that, then said “So…’untouched by the converse’?” the question here was obvious.
Malfoy lightly tapped a finger against Harry’s foot and said “the converse of a man is a woman, Harry. Clearly I’m gay. How could you not have noticed?”
Harry finally stopped counting the tiles in the ceiling and look at Malfoy, who met his gaze steadily. “Why would I? It doesn’t matter to me what you do.”
“Indeed?”
“Hm. You’ve been calling me Harry lately.” Malfoy’s hand was still on his ankle, and his weight on the foot of the bed was suddenly distracting. Realization hit him.
“Hey, Malfoy? Are you…uh, are you coming on to me?”
Malfoy leaned toward Harry, lifting his hand and drifting the tips of his fingers further up Harry’s leg. Harry sat up, and lightly smacked Malfoy’s hand away.
“Sorry Malfoy, but I’m not gay. Even if I were,” he said with a grin, “I’m sure I could find a bloke who didn’t hate me for most of his life! Maybe one who wasn’t so pointy as well, do you think?”
Malfoy sat back with a sniff, then rose and returned to his own bed.
“Do forgive my lapse in judgment. I simply cannot guess what I was thinking.”
“I can guess what you were thinking,” Harry chuckled, feeling smug “You were thinking ‘oh, big strong Harry saved me, and he’s so fit I have to have him!’ or something like that-“
“Shut it Harry, or I’ll shut it for you!” Malfoy snarled, turning his back on Harry in a huff.
Harry simply laughed.
--------
Good God, my arms ache. I typed this up in just two sittings, I’ll have you guys know. You probably thought I was dead forever, huh? Well, I’m back, and apparently into Harry Potter fiction! I’ll bet some of you were hoping for some hardcore H/D, but as you can see in this fic Harry is utterly straight. I did leave the door open for some friendship though, because another reason for sacrifice is a new beginning. On another note, this is unbetaed, and while I tried my best I can’t promise 100% error-free writing. I apologize for any you find!
Enjoying her (brief?) return to fandom,
Asaka
~~~
“Harry Potter!”
Harry Potter, war hero hailed as The-Boy-Who-Lived and Witch Weekly’s most powerful wizard of the decade, bolted upright with a yelp and fell from his desk to the floor in an ungraceful heap.
Hermione Weasley, nee’ Granger, strolled breezily through the entryway of his study and carefully stepped over a spluttering Harry to sit in the chair closest to the large open windows, situating herself calmly while Harry climbed back into his favorite arm chair.
“Well! I was worried when you wouldn’t answer your Floo for the past few hours, but clearly” here she paused to survey Harry with an amused look while Harry sheepishly retrieved his glasses from the floor,
“I had no reason to worry, other than the usual, of course.”
Hermione carefully settled the stacks of papers she had brought before turning to regard Harry with a piercing look he was sure she had learned from Minerva McGonagall, Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witches and Wizardry.
“Harry,” she said briskly, “have you considered my plan yet? I’ve discussed it with you so many times already, and you keep postponing it. I’m really very anxious to get things in motion!”
Harry cleared his throat and said “Er…Yes! I think it’s, um, splendid. Brilliant job as always Hermione.” Harry smiled in what he clearly thought was a confident I-know-exactly-what-you’re-taking-about manner.
Hermione was unconvinced.
She eyed Harry carefully and was once again was struck by the negative changes she had seen in Harry over the past month or so. Harry had bags under his eyes that she could see through the glamours he wore, as well as the fact that he had lost a noticeable amount of weight from his trim frame. Falling asleep in his study fretting over the piles of work he hadn’t finished, and the mountains of things to do he hadn’t even started only proved that Harry desperately needed a vacation away from the constant demands of his work, the press, and himself.
After Harry had defeated Voldemort, the entire magical community had been nearly beside themselves. The Ministry and Auror Shaklebolt had assumed Harry would join the Auror ranks, and they had assured him that he would, of course, be accepted. They were shocked when Harry turned down the position, stating that he would rather lead a quieter, more peaceful existence. Joining a professional quidditch team was considered and summarily discarded. That life would only add to the constant fan following, and his life would be under more scrutiny than ever. Fred and George Weasley eventually helped him come to the conclusion that he would rather play the part of the silent partner. Harry found companies and causes he believed in, such as the Werewolf Integration Act that led to Remus Lupin becoming legally able to publicly accept the position of Defense against the Dark arts professor at Hogwarts. Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes now owned three shops as well as a kiosk in Diagon Alley’s red light district that sold decidedly more adult products.
Harry was quite happy to help small struggling business that belonged to his friends and causes he was passionate about, but as soon word had spread that Harry Potter was a rich humanitarian, owls came pouring in begging for help from everywhere. It became a full time job for Harry to sort through them all in order to find one that was legitimately a good investment rather than an attempt for a bit of ‘Potter Publicity.’ His friends had begged him to hire a secretary over a year ago, and he had taken their advice. That had all gone pear shaped when the first secretary, a young witch, had sold picture she had taken to the press. Shaken and hurt, because Harry had sincerely liked her, he had refused help ever since. He insisted that he didn’t need any assistance and could do it all himself.
Watching Harry ask Kreacher for tea and only sigh tiredly rather than chastising the surly elf when Kreacher mumbled about ‘filthy mud bloods’ Hermione knew she had to press her point and get Harry out of this toxic situation. Suddenly, she was struck with inspiration. Harry clearly didn’t remember what she had come here for, and she could use this lapse to her own advantage.
“So Harry, you think my idea is a good one? I’ll admit, I was a little worried you might not like it.” Hermione sipped her tea and made sure self doubt flittered across her feature.
“No, no, I think your idea is smashing! I, um …” Harry clearly fished for an adjective here then said triumphantly “I know it’ll be as amazing as everything else you come up with. Don’t know why you didn’t think of it before.”
Hermione hid her smile in her tea cup. “Neither do I, Harry. So, I suppose you’ll sign these papers to give me proper access? I’ll handle everything tonight then come by tomorrow to get you, around ten.”
Harry agreed and signed the documents, obviously confused but trying to hide it as Hermione made idle small talk then made her excuses to leave. The papers didn’t reveal anything about what they were for, and as soon as the green flames of the Floo in his living room had died, Harry sprinted up the stairs back to his study for parchment. He quickly scrawled a letter to Ron, hoping that, as Hermione’s spouse, he would have an idea of what she had in store for him.
Ron,
Hermione is planning something and I haven’t a clue what it is. Please send Hedwig back with an explanation and escape ideas!
-Harry
He gave the snowy owl strict instruction to deliver this directly to Ron, and then sent her off. He paced uncertainly for a while, mulling over the problem he had landed himself into. He was so busy lately that he could barely recall what Hermione could possibly be talking about, and when Hermione sank her teeth into a project, witches and wizards in her way tended to end up with bite marks! Hedwig returned within the hour, carrying Ron’s reply on the back of his plea. Harry stared in growing horror at the words on the parchment.
Sorry, mate. –Ron
~~~
The next morning saw Harry a distracted bundle of nerves wandering Grimmauld Place. Harry tried to work his way through a rude letter demanding galleons and a public appearance at the grand opening but quickly grew frustrated and angrily set aside the papers on his desk. He couldn’t get any of the masses of work done with the question ‘what is Hermione up to?’ mucking about in his mind like a rampaging dragon. He made himself a calming cup of tea that didn’t calm him much at all, snapped at Kreacher, fiddled with the wireless, and watched the grandfather clock slowly count to the dreaded hour.
Promptly at ten, his wards chimed, letting him know that Hermione and two others were at his door. He squared his shoulders, mentally assured himself that he wouldn’t let Hermione have her way, then opened the door and allowed Hermione, George, and Ron inside. Hermione was carrying a large blue suitcase, and Ron had a mysterious satchel. George clapped Harry on the shoulder with a friendly grin. “Hey there Harry! Been awhile since I’ve seen you, not since Ginny’s birthday I think. You hardly ever come down to the shop anymore.”
Harry smiled apologetically, and made his usual excuses while subtly keeping a suspicious eye on Ron and Hermione.
Still, with George distracting him he didn’t see the nod Hermione gave Ron, and therefore was unprepared when Ron suddenly whipped something out of the bag he was carrying and threw it at Harry.
Luckily, Harry still had the reflexes that helped him win the war, and he managed to dodge the object in time. He quickly noted it was a Wheeze’s product, a Tickle Till You Tinkle, and he only had time to think what good would that do-no, it’s a distraction! before George hit him with an Impedimenta and he fell to the floor, bound from head to toe in ropes.
Harry’s wand was quickly confiscated by Ron and he stared at them through the ropes with betrayal and anger in his eyes. Ron rubbed his head uncomfortably but George only grinned and laughingly said “Be glad you ducked that Harry! That one was extra-strength!”
Hermione quickly began to explain, knowing they had a limited window in which Harry would eventually see past his anger and be able to concentrate enough get free with wandless magic.
“Harry, I know you’re angry-“a slew of muffled curses followed this “-but it’s for your own good! You’ve been working much too hard for the past year, and a few months ago you started shutting up in here by yourself much too often. And before you say you haven’t been by yourself,” she said, catching the defiant look in Harry’s eye, “that damned Kreacher does not count as company!”
“Hermione!” Ron said in shock, surprised she could say something disparaging about any house elf, even one as foul as Kreacher.
“Well, it’s true!” she insisted, with a sheepish look. “He’s always muttering under his breath about Harry, and even though you refurbished Grimmauld Place, it’s still a bit…dreary at times.”
“Too right that, Hermione.” George muttered, nudging a growling bearskin rug with his toe, only to quickly snatch it back as the growls grew more menacing.
Ron levitated him to sit upright on the couch, and Harry glared at them as best he could though it was hard to be intimidating when you were tied up in your own home and getting a cramp in your shoulder.
Hermione, flanked on each side by a Weasley, said “Harry, we’re sending you on a holiday to Hawaii, and you’re going to love it! I’ve heard great reviews from several people.”
Harry gave her a look that clearly said you must be joking, and began spluttering angrily and struggling against his bonds. If only he could get to his wand, he could hex Ron, stun George, push Hermione out of the way, then escape through the floo and be free!
Hermione ignored his struggles and said firmly “Here, I packed a suitcase for you. It has everything you need.
“And probably things you don’t need.” Ron murmured. George snickered, but silenced himself when Hermione shot a glare his way.
“I’ve already arranged with the companies you sponsor that you’ll be gone for two weeks, the hotel you’ll be staying in is booked for you, and there’s money and everything else in your bag. The ropes will release one minute after you get there and in case you decide you want to come back a bit early…”
Hermione reached into the satchel Ron was carrying and pulled out several herbs. She sprinkled them in a circle around Harry, began a long incantation, then flicked her wand and pressed it to his heart, then between his eyes against the famous lightning bolt scar. Harry felt the tingle of magic radiating out from where her wand had touched him, and he raised a questioning eyebrow when she finished chanting.
“There,” she said sounding satisfied, “now you won’t be able to apparate or Floo back to anywhere in England. Even if you leave Hawaii you’ll still be on vacation because you won’t be here. Still, I’m sure you won’t leave because I’ve worked so hard to set this up for you. Isn’t that right, Harry?”
The fierce look in Hermione’s face made it clear that Harry had better enjoy it, or there would be a price to pay.
Ron placed the suitcase, Harry’s wand, and an ugly yellow paper weight portkey in Harry’s lap then patted him on the shoulder. Harry moved away from his hand and let the hurt and confusion show on his face. “Hell Harry,” Ron sighed “Don’t you see what we see? You look terrible mate. I haven’t seen you look so tired and out of sorts since the war. You’re twenty-two but you don’t date, and you hole up in this house without seeing any of us. We just want what’s best for you, and it’s our job to make sure you get it.”
“If you’re still mad when you come back, you can punch us, Harry. We’ll accept it and won’t do it again.” George said.
Hermione checked the time on the grandfather clock and said “The port key will activate in three…two…”
Harry didn’t hear one, because the familiar hook was in his belly, and he was pulled off from the comfort of his home in thrust into a vacation he hadn’t asked for.
Day One
Harry arrived in the lobby of a hotel that was clearly for the very rich. The décor was tasteful dark wood and cheerful green, with a huge skylight letting in the sun light and color changing palm trees in every corner. The hostess didn’t seem surprised to see a trussed up Harry Potter arrive suddenly and once the ropes had fallen off, she ushered him to a large, spacious room with an attached bath and excellent view of the beach. She explained that the island was purely of the magical community, and hidden from the eyes of Muggles. Magic could be cast freely, but she asked that higher level spells be kept to a minimum, as it inferred with Muggle airplanes that may fly overhead. After she left, Harry sat on the king sized bed and tried to calm himself before his magic broke something or made the carpet catch fire.
He knew very well that there was no use in trying to go home. Hermione was always true to her word, and if she stated he couldn’t apparate to England, then that was true. He stood and gazed out the window, taking in the sight of clear blue skies and a gorgeous ocean. It is very relaxing, he thought. Maybe I do need a vacation. I wish they had gone about it better, but… It was very hard to argue when he suddenly felt as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He rummaged through the bad and found that Hermione had indeed packed everything he needed. After unshrinking toiletries and a change of clothes, he took a long hot shower in a bathroom big enough to house a family and headed for the beach.
Day Four
Harry sighed happily, digging his toes into the sand and feeling warm sun on his bare shoulders. He had recently finished a whale watching boat tour and was now sitting in a cabana on the beach watching various families mill about with their children and spouses. Hawaii was amazing, with perfect weather and a relaxed atmosphere that he couldn’t help but enjoy. All he had to do was lay back, snorkel, and amuse himself with sights of brightly colored fish. There was no work to grow grey hairs over, nothing to annoy him except sand in uncomfortable places. Everything was per-
“Potter!”
Harry stiffened, feeling all the charms of holiday away from his troubles on a paradise melt away in seconds. No, he thought, no it simply can’t be Draco Malfoy. I’m a good person and I don’t deserve that.
He turned slowly, and leveled his fiercest glare at the blonde git that had been scum on his shoe since before his voice changed.
“Malfoy. What do you want?”
Draco Malfoy, ex Death-Eater, rich aristocrat and known in Harry’s mind as the Man-Who-Lived-Despite-My-Attempts-Otherwise slid in the chair opposite Harry as though he belonged there and it was not at all out of the ordinary to engage life-long enemies in idle chats.
“Potter, I believe the correct way to greet someone is by saying ‘hello’ or ‘how are you?’ or something to that effect.” Malfoy drawled, deliberately turning himself to catch the light and dazzle the pretty witches at the bar.
“Not,” Harry said firmly, “to scum like you. The correct way to greet you would be saying ‘get the hell away from me’ or maybe to break your jaw.”
“How plebian of you Potter, to resort to violence to solve your problems.” Malfoy drawled, raising an eyebrow and beckoning the server with a twitch of his hand. She rushed over, and began efficiently taking the blonde wizards order. I’ll bet it’s delivered in seconds as well thought Harry darkly. The Malfoys, for all the war had tarnished their name and social standing, was still very rich and widely known. At Ministry functions that Harry had been coaxed into, he often saw that Malfoy was catered to by sycophants or were willing to ignore his family for a chance in the spotlight, and unlike Harry, Malfoy loved every minute of the simpering attention.
Draco Malfoy escaped charges for his war crimes by switching sides and becoming a spy for the Order of Phoenix, much like Severus Snape had years earlier. His mother, Narcissa Malfoy, had never taken the Dark Mark and had managed to squeeze the Ministry into granting immunity in exchange for access to Malfoy Manor for a time just after Voldemorts death. Lucious Malfoy, however, hadn’t been able to escape as his family had and was Kissed for his crimes. Draco Malfoy went on to open a shop with Snape on Diagon Alley selling potions he had improved upon or invented. He did this business simply for the enjoyment of it, he stated, and many of his very useful potions were used in the capture of the remnants of Death Eaters. One potion that Harry knew of was very useful for the Aurors, as it burned like acid only when in contact with skin that had been Dark Marked. None of this made Harry like, or tolerate the presence of Draco Malfoy.
“What are you even doing here, Malfoy? I would think you’d be in, I don’t know, France or Italy.” Harry was taken back when his words caused Malfoy to laugh in a manner that wasn’t derisive or mocking. He narrowed his eyes, taking in the unaggressive lines of Malfoys body and wondering what the hell was going on here.
“I often vacation in Hawaii. The atmosphere is very relaxing, don’t you agree? My mother is in France though, Angers to be precise. How very astute of you to notice that France is her favorite holiday spot.”
Harry wrinkled his nose as the server returned with a brightly colored drink and handed it to Malfoy. Malfoy flashed a charming smile at the waitress, and Harry was disgusted to note that she promptly reddened and giggled as she went to serve other tables.
Harry stood abruptly and turned to leave, determined to enjoy his holiday without any interference from gits like Malfoy. He was sure Hermione was unaware of Malfoys presence on the island, or she surely wouldn’t have sent him here. Malfoy has a way of ruining everyone’s plan, it seems.
“I believe you meant to say ‘goodbye’ before you left so rudely Potter, but you needn’t worry about offending me!” came Malfoy’s sharp voice from behind him as he exited the cabana. Harry didn’t answer, and instead headed to his room. A long soak in the hot tub was exactly what he needed to deal with Malfoy-related stress!
Day Seven
Harry surfaced with a gasp, laughingly shaking water from his face. It was very late, past midnight, and he was enjoying a swim while the beach was deserted. The sky was clear, the moon was half full, and it had occurred to him looking out his window that now was a perfect time to enjoy the warm waters. And a perfect time not to see Malfoy, he thought, floating on his back. Lately Malfoy had been everywhere, flitting through doorways, eating at the buffet, strolling through the sand… It was driving Harry crazy to watch people fall over themselves to assist him! He felt vindicated, though, as the people who took one look at Malfoy, recognized him for what he was and turned their backs to him.
Harry saw a glint of something from the corner of his eye, and he swam a bit closer to get a closer look. The woods began behind the hotel, and that was where the soft light was coming from, so he swam to shore and slipped on his sandals to go take a closer look. He let his curious nature guide him as he slunk closer, letting himself get caught up in the fun of ‘tracking’ the mysterious light. It looked like a lumos. He dropped behind a thick frond and peered around it, and was shocked to see someone cast a patronus charm. The sudden light blinded him for awhile, but he noted a silvery hyena run past him and disappear into another wing of the hotel behind him. Soon a female figure ran quickly out of the hotel and headed towards the light.
“Were you seen?” said a breathless voice. A woman, American and young as far as Harry could tell. Through the shadows he could see the curve of a round cheek and curly hair.
“No, of course not.” Said another voice, this one male and confident. The accent was British, and sounded vaguely familiar to Harry. As he struggled to place it, the two figures moved closer together and embraced. The woman giggled and the man murmured in a sultry voice “Are you prepared? I think it’s going to be very soon, pet.”
“God, I’m so excited! I’ll cast the privacy wards now.” giggled the woman, and Harry took that as his cue to leave.
Harry safely escaped, amused at his encounter with the couple in the woods. Clearly they were sneaking off for some fun outside near the beach, and Harry found the idea understandable. It was beautiful out, and if he had someone special, he would probably indulge himself similarly. He returned to his room, showered the sea water off his skin, and crawled into his magically warmed bed. Still, despite the buttery soft sheets and downy pillow, he felt the lack of what the couple outside had. He had tried dating women he had been attracted to, but often those relationships didn’t last very long. He often found publicity overwhelming, but he had been dealing with it for nearly eleven years. Dates found themselves followed to their homes, gyms, favorite restaurants and while walking their dogs. The two most common reactions were to lap it up, which Harry hated, or break it off with him in order to keep their privacy intact, which Harry couldn’t blame them for. He hadn’t seriously dated in over a year, and the lack of company, as well as regular sex, was beginning to rankle.
Harry, summoning up his famed determination, put those thoughts out of his mind. He was on holiday and damned if he wouldn’t enjoy it!
Day Ten
Harry was enjoying a first rate breakfast when there was a knock on the door. He answered to find a host there with a letter from him. It was from the entire Weasley family, and it was filled with anxiousness over whether Harry was enjoying his holiday in Hawaii. He replied that they had been right, and that his holiday was going excellently. He started to add a grumpy note that Malfoy was here, then crossed it out, annoyed that Malfoy was even attempting to enter his letter. He signed the letter, and then went looking for an owl to send it with.
The hostess gave him a pretty, brightly colored bird of a species he couldn’t identify who chirped merrily at him as he tired the letter to its leg. As it flew out of huge skylight in the lobby, he reasoned that now was a perfect time to try his hand at fishing. He was going to try it the Muggle way, so he didn’t expect to catch much, but it would be fun to sit in the sun and laze about all day. The dark haired wizard gathered his gear and made his way to the beach, only to bump into Malfoy reading under an umbrella near the dock, looking crisply well-dressed and aristocratic as usual. Harry decided to make this encounter as quick as possible, and gave Malfoy a brief nod as he walked past to find another spot to fish.
“That’s the only acknowledgment I get, Potter? After so many years or knowing each other, I certainly think that-“
Harry whirled and stepped closer to Malfoy, letting the annoyance he felt show clearly on his face. He summoned up his magic, letting it dance just under the surface of his skin and letting the air warm slightly around him, knowing Malfoy would feel it clearly. He remembered how Malfoy was almost in his letter to the Weasley’s, which would have ruined the letter entirely, and felt his anger irrationally grow about something Malfoy didn’t have an active hand in.
“Do you have something to say, Malfoy? Other than your usual mocking comments and insults about my friends, that is?”
Malfoy’s gray eyes met Harry’s squarely, and he paused a heartbeat before saying lowly “You’re confusing me with who I used to be years ago, Potter. Have you heard me do anything of that sort in years?”
“No,” Harry said savagely, “because I make every effort never to see or hear you do anything at all.”
Malfoy raised a singular eye brow, and that motion filled Harry with the need to put his fist in Malfoys pointy face. “Can you even raise the other eyebrow?” he snarled.
Malfoy smiled suddenly, taking Harry off guard and said “Why yes I can.” He demonstrated, then said lightly “Can you do something I’ve never seen you do, Potter?”
Harry was still very close to Malfoy, but it was hard to tower threateningly over someone who refused to be cowed, and responded with mirth instead of fear. Harry made an entire school career of studying Malfoy, so he could be informed of when the surprise hallway ambushes would occur, or if Malfoy was in a “filthy mudblood!” or a “poverty stricken weasel!” mood that day, but this was different somehow. He knew Malfoys’ emotions could not be read in his eyes, face, or body language-he was too groomed for that- but the way he presented himself allowed for clues to what he though. The way he approached things revealed what he thought if you knew him well enough, and the fact that he was letting Harry control this interaction and not respond with the expected hostility was throwing Harry off balance. Maybe this new facet he was seeing in Malfoy was because the usual settings, Hogwarts and later, the war, were no longer in play.
Harry took a step back, and regarded Malfoy, who was still directing that challenging smirk his way. “Something you’ve never seen me do?”
“Yes,” said Malfoy. “I’ve never seen you look at me like a person and treat me as such. You give killer bees more regard than me.”
“Killer bees are much nicer than you on your best day, you git.” Harry snapped.
“Are they? I haven’t had enough conversations with killer bees to find out. I suppose the devotion to each other would be appealing to someone like you.” Malfoy said archly, and Harry couldn’t keep his eyebrows – both of them- from shooting up nearly to his hairline. Merlin’s wand, was that a joke from Draco Malfoy? On a sudden whim, he let the magic that was still just under the surface expand outwards as he said “Finite Incantum!”He stood, waiting for the spell Malfoy had hit him with the release, only to frown when nothing happened.
“Oh dear, I haven’t tried to daze your wits with a spell? Will Earth ever recover from the gasp heard ‘round the world?” Malfoy eyed his gear and said “Ah, fishing are you? Enjoy your activities. I believe I have a massage scheduled around now.”
“Okay Malfoy, um, goodbye then.” Harry said awkwardly, a bit thrown by the surprisingly civil conversation he had just been involved in with the blonde wizard. As Malfoy put a bookmark in his book and began to shrink his umbrella, Harry heard two very familiar voices laughing to his left. He turned quickly to see the couple he had seen a few days’ prior holding hands and smiling at one another. The woman was pretty, with flaxen curls and a big smile. The man Harry had heard was short, and was wearing a shirt that glittered lightly in the morning sun. Harry heard Malfoy gasp, and turned to face him. He frowned as he saw Malfoy standing dumbstruck, staring at the couple with a slightly sick expression on his face. He caught Harry’s eyes, and before he could ask Malfoy what was wrong, Malfoy whirled and strode quickly away without a word, back stiff with tension. He was going to need that massage, what with all the stress of being a moody prat, Harry thought. Seeing people happy must stick in his throat.
He glanced once more and was exasperated to find the squat mans’ eyes locked with his for a moment, clearly star struck. The woman actually squealed, looking shocked and he gave them a quick smile before beating his own hasty retreat to better fishing before she regained her wits and asked him to sign anything.
As he fished, he tried for a moment to remember where he knew the man, but figured he had simply seen him about Diagon Alley once or twice.
Day Eleven
It was just past noon when Harry started at the knock on the door, and then rose to answer it. Harry took in the sight of the slim, honey skinned woman with masses of dark hair spilling in an enchanting tangle down her back and felt immediate interest.
The woman blinked and said “Oh! I’m sorry, this is the wrong room. Hey, you’re Harry Potter aren’t you?”
Americans really are blunt, he thought, but also friendly and engaging, so it’s hard to even be offended. It’s even harder when it’s a gorgeous witch with the prettiest hair I’ve ever seen.
He nodded at her question and grinned invitingly, saying “It doesn’t seem fair that you know my name when I don’t know yours, yeah?”
She lowered long, dark lashes coyly and tilted her head, letting some of the shorter wisps of hair brush her cheeks. “I’m Iokina. I was actually looking for someone, but I’ve clearly gotten the room number wrong, unless you’re hiding Draco Malfoy in there.”
Harry’s sudden scowl clearly surprised her, because she asked snapped from flirtatious to alert, asking “What’s wrong?”
“No, it’s nothing Iokina! Malfoy and I just don’t get along is all. I’m surprised you know him.” Harry said quickly, trying to regain his footing. Malfoy again, popping up as I talk to fit lasses! Is nothing sacred?
“Oh,” she said slowly, “I know him because I live here, and he’s been coming now and then to visit for years. I guess there’s no point asking if you know where he is, huh?” She laughed again at his incredulous look and said “Well I guess that’s my answer!”
“Sorry not to be of more help, Iokina.” He shrugged casually, and then considered for a moment before plunging in feet first by saying “What are you doing later?”
“After I find Draco and finally give him his overdue massage, you mean? Probably bumming around, doing nothing important. Do you have any suggestions, Harry?”
“I do, indeed. How about dinner later today and some snorkeling?” Harry offered, leaning casually in the door frame of his room.
“I have a better idea,” Iokina said brightly “why don’t you come by the massage parlor after my shift and we can take a helicopter tour?”
They agreed on a time and place, and Harry couldn’t help the goofy smile at the thought of a date with Iokina. He decided to kill time walking along the beach, watching the sun dip below the sky line, digging his toes into the white sand and letting the sound of the ocean wash over him. Here in Hawaii, the war weren’t so near and personal, and the public didn’t fawn at his feet any more than the average celebrity. It was a refreshing change, and he intended to enjoy it. Maybe he’d even extend his holiday a bit, and travel to other places. He always thought Greece sounded fascinating, and maybe a trip to Switzerland…
He had reached the thick stand of trees where the couple first caught his attention, and he noticed it was getting quite dark out. Harry turned to walk back and get ready for the helicopter ride with Iokina when a familiar, unpleasant tingle ran up his spine. Someone had just cast an incantation he knew very well, so well he could tell when it was being cast anywhere around him.
Crucio.
Harry whirled, wand in hand, and wished fervently that he had his invisibility cloak. He cast a strong Disillusionment, a Supersensory charm, and Silencio on himself, then glided closer, using the superior senses the Supersensory charm gave him to see in the waning light.
There was nobody there, he couldn’t see or hear anything, yet he knew he hadn’t imagined the unique magical signature of Crucio sliding over his skin. He had been sensitive to this curse ever since the war and he had never been wrong. He stopped at the sudden feel of danger before him, as a sudden need to go check on something else where washed over him. Wards, he thought grimly powerful ones. Someone is trying to hide something in these woods. I can’t do this alone, but first I need proof, legitimate proof that something is going on.
He pressed gently on the wards, gently enough to hopefully not bring attention to himself by those who had cast it. He froze momentarily as the dark, slimy feeling of someone casting crucio before grimly returning to his task. He finally found an area near to the ground where the wards were slightly more brittle. He immediately began working on it, trying to widen the space until it was a hole big enough to fit him.
He had widened the hole enough to hear what was happening inside, and he quickly set his wand to record and began carefully listening to what they were saying as he widened the hole further. It was a male voice, screaming. Malfoy? Harry thought with shock, and suddenly remembered what Iokina had said earlier when she first knocked on his door. ‘I was actually looking for someone’ and after that when he had asked her on a date ‘after I give him his overdue massage’ which means he never went to the massage yesterday when I went fishing. He’s been captured for nearly two days.
The hole was finally wide enough for him to slip through, and Malfoys screams had tapered off. Now there was only derisive laughter and jeers, someone was calling Malfoy a “little lamb” and hooting about leading him ‘to the slaughter.’
With a sinking heart, Harry realized his Saving People Thing was rearing its ugly head. He was going to have to get Malfoy out of here, now.
Hell, Malfoy, he thought, You really do ruin everything.
~~~
Harry silently crept forward, eyes open and ears sharp for any sound of discovery. He came quite suddenly upon a group of black robed figures standing around an altar. Death Eaters! Not many of them though, just a remaining few who haven’t been caught by the Ministry yet. I see seven, but I think there are more just in the shadows. It was clearly set up for some sort of ritual, as he could see in the faltering light of sunset, and had a cage set to the side. There was a symbol drawn on the floor in what disturbingly seemed like blood, and the cloying smell of incense filled the air. Suddenly it dawned on him that this was all very familiar. Blood stained heavily jeweled knife? An altar that nearly vibrates with bad intention and despair? And I’m fairly positive the full moon is tonight as well. If they’re waiting for it to reach its peak, like most rituals call for, I’ve only got a short time to get Malfoy, and then get help.
Harry cast a silent Patronus, gave it the strict message to wait a half hour before raising the alarm to the proper officials on the island, strengthened his Disillusionment and stayed to the shadows, grateful that he was wearing dark colors. He focused on the feel of Malfoys magic, letting it led him to an area that looked as though the Death Eaters had simply burned away all the trees, leaving a circle of charred trees standing like silent corpses around the clearing. Malfoy was lying there, dressed in a white robe embroidered with symbols that glowed black, washing the color from his skin and casting shadows that made him look like an Inferi.
Harry was shocked to see Amycus Carrow giggling hideously as he twirled his wand with his fat fingers. He looked strangely familiar, and with a jolt, he realized that this was one-half of the couple he had seen in the bushes and on the beach. Clearly what he thought was a romantic tryst was a meeting, in order to plan this dark sacrifice. His face had likely been hidden under various glamour spells, but Harry had recognized his voice. He hadn’t known him well enough to see through the glamour, but obviously Malfoy had. That day on the beach, Malfoy had left as though hounds were on his heels, but clearly not fast enough. Carrow must have had time to realize that he and Malfoy were both on the island.
“Pretty Draco,” Carrow crooned, nudging him with his toe “I had such high hopes for you. You were so talented in school, such a perfect little sheep. Eager to follow, happy to cast Crucio after Crucio on your classmates! That was such a wonderful year for us, eh, Draco?” Carrow sighed, and circled Malfoy examining his prey with obvious glee. He seemed entranced by the glittering defiance in Malfoy’s face, and he leaned closer, close enough to Harry couldn’t hear what he said next. Whatever it was, it was horrifying, because the constantly poised Malfoy actually flinched, and that was when Harry acted.
“Duro!” he hissed, filled with righteous anger, and Carrow didn’t have a second to react as he was turned to stone. Harry cast a Silencio on the entire clearing then rushed forward, intending to get to Malfoy and free him, but he was startled as a voice yelled “Stupefy!”
A red light flew over his ear close enough to shave off a few dark hairs. He whirled to find the other half of the ‘couple’ staring at him with a snarl, dark robes trailing the ground and curls bouncing as she turned to make herself a smaller target.
“Who are you?” he growled, trying to see if the cherubic face was the result of a glamour, or if this was simply a Death Eater he hadn’t had the ‘pleasure’ to meet yet. He made sure to keep himself between her and Malfoy, who still was bound and gagged, though he was wisely scooting backwards away from the fight.
“My name isn’t important, Potter! My loyalty is what’s important! I wasn’t able to meet the Dark Lord, but Amycus has told me about him and I’m anxious to prove myself!” she sneered, and pointed her hand at Harry, who tensed immediately, ready to dodge at any moment. “I’ll start proving myself by giving him your head on a platter! Avada Kedavra!” She screeched. Harry dove to the ground wincing as his wrist struck awkwardly, and rolled through the leaves back up to his feet casting a quick Diffindo at the cackling witch. It sliced through her hand and she screamed, dropping to her knees.
He hit her with a stunner, then had a serious moment where he considered whether or not to heal her bleeding stump. It was more then she deserved, but Harry had experienced enough death during the war. This is why I never became an Auror, thought Harry; a life under fire isn’t what I had in mind. He cast an episky at the Death Eater witch, then went to attend to Malfoy, who had propped himself up against a tree and was watching with wide gray eyes. He was bleeding from a split lip and shaking from being under the Cruciatious, but he seemed to be alright.
A quick diffindo released Malfoys bonds. Malfoy stood shakily, and Harry quickly took his elbow and guided him behind to the nearest charred tree. He cast episky on Malfoys bloodied face and bruised ribs, then cast a Notice Me Not and Silencio on Malfoy’s feet so they could sneak away.
“Saving me, Potter? I can hardly believe my luck.” Malfoy said in a voice that strove for casual and came across as shaky.
Harry recognized the statement for what it was, and choose not to comment on the herbs he could smell on Malfoy, which signaled he had been prepared for sacrifice. Amycus Carrows’ torture had likely been to make Malfoy more pliant before the actual event, and if acting like that wasn’t as horrifying as it clearly had been was what Malfoy wanted, Harry would give it to him.
“Malfoy,” Harry said calmly, grasping Malfoy by the shoulders and forcing his eyes away from the altar and other Death Eaters he could just see through the trees and back to Harry. “Are there any other sacrifices?”
“Yes, only I don’t know where they are. Not here though, I think.” said Malfoy, “I was to be first. They think I’m a traitor to the cause, and this was going to be my punishment. They’re trying to bring the Dark Lord back.”
“They can’t! I killed him. He’s really, truly dead now.” Harry began to lead Malfoy away from the clearing of dead trees and away from the altar. They picked their way carefully, trying not to alert anyone of Malfoy’s escape, though it was only a matter of time before they notice his absence.
Malfoy shook his head, dirty blonde hair flying as he did. “No Potter, not his body, just his soul into a different vessel. I don’t know who they chose; they didn’t tell me much while they…had me.”
Harry snorted derisively. “Ha! Good luck to them. His soul was split by his own hand. Clearly he didn’t tell his followers that, of they’d know this entire ritual is useless. Who are the Death Eaters behind this?” Harry said, leading Malfoy closer to the edge of the barrier looking for where he had come in. He heard the alarm being raised behind him, and after a quick exchanged look with Malfoy, they both sped up.
“It’s mostly slytherins from our year!” Malfoy panted, a hand pressed to his side as they jogged through the woods, staying low. The sun was gone now, and the moon was fat and hanging low in the sky. Harry said nothing, quickly making for the hole, praying it hadn’t been discovered by an attentive Death Eater, and then they were there. They tumbled through the hole, and Harry breathed a mental sigh of relief. Now they needed to make it to the hotel, and get Malfoy professional medical attention. What he wouldn’t give for Madam Pomfrey! Harry paused for a moment to cast the strongest Anti-Apparition spell he could on the clearing behind him he could before catching up to Malfoy.
“Harry,” Malfoy said and Harry started, surprised to hear his name from Malfoy, “I thank you for this. I know this rescue may simply be the result of all the red décor in your life, but –“
“Look, Malfoy” Harry interrupted, “My home is decorated in shades of blue, and I wouldn’t leave anybody to be sacrificed. You don’t have to thank me. I’d prefer if you didn’t, actually, because it’s strange to have you acting so nice toward me.”
Malfoy lifted the edge of his robe to step over a rotten log, and Harry snorted at the sight of shaved legs. “They shaved your legs Malfoy?”
“Legs? I was a sacrifice”, Malfoy said dryly “they shaved everything.”
Harry had nothing to say to that, but the look on his face said it all. Malfoy chuckled, only to wince as his ribs ached. Harry renewed the Silencio on both of them, and continued to carefully survey the area. The yells from the Death Eaters looking for Malfoy weren’t getting any louder, and they didn’t sound very organized. The enhanced senses from the Supersensory Spell weren’t helping him find the hotel, which was one of the only structures on the magical island, because it made it seem as though the ocean sounds were coming from every direction. Damn island! He thought, trying not to let on that he wasn’t quite sure of where he was going. Malfoy eyed Harry for a moment, then said “You do have help coming, don’t you Harry? Please tell me this wasn’t a one-man rescue that you just dove into.”
“Does it seem that way?” Harry mused; trying to decide which way was back toward the beach. He really wasn’t sure if this was the right way, but damned if he wasn’t going to pretend he knew.
At Malfoys dark look, he grinned and said “Relax, I’m not an idiot.” He ignored Malfoys grumble and said “I sent my Patronus ages ago. They should be arriving any minute now, and they’ll get the Death Eaters rounded up and the sacrifices back home safely.
They were silent, and Harry realized he could hear authoritative voices in the distance. Malfoy couldn’t yet, obviously, but they helped orient him in the right direction. Malfoy gave him a suspicious look when he abruptly led them in a different direction, but he didn’t say anything.
“So it was only me you helped then, Harry?” Malfoy asked suddenly, just before the American Aurors were in sight.
“Yeah, you can put it that way.” Harry said simply, before he had to identify himself and Malfoy to the authorities, and then there was no more room to talk.
Day Twelve
Harry woke up in the Infirmary Wing, wearing only his trousers and with an itchy splint on his wrist. Ah, memories. I spend too much time in the company of Mediwizards and Mediwitches. Eventually every Healer in the world will know me on a first name basis.
He didn’t thing he had been hurt badly enough to warrant a stay overnight, but the Healers had insisted. He had fallen into an exhausted sleep nearly as soon as he knew the other sacrifices were safe and the Death Eaters rounded up. Malfoy had also been led to the mini hospital inside the hotel and given several potions that he felt the need to complain about loudly. Harry hadn’t even had a chance to contact Ron or Hermione, but he hoped once he told them about this they would consent to lifting the geias and letting him return to England. After all this excitement, he ached to be home, though he was sure this would be splashed all over Witch Weekly very soon.
He decided not to put on his glasses and sighed, taking a moment to luxuriate in the silk sheets against his skin.
Note to self: I should own silk sheets.
“Hey, Malfoy?” he said, looking at the ceiling. He heard the rustling of the bed next to him, and frowned when Malfoy didn’t answer. “Malfoy!” he snapped.
“Potter, some of us are trying to sleep. I’ll have you know I’ve had a very trying ordeal!”
“I was just wondering, what were the requirements for becoming a sacrifice? You don’t seem like a very likely candidate. I remember all the other sacrifices were young, virgin girls. So, why you then?” Harry asked, putting his hands behind his head.
“Is it not enough that they’re evil and wanted to kill me for being, as they called it, a traitor to the cause? Must you be so callus of my feelings Harry? I could be very fragile at the moment, you know. I may cry.” Malfoy drawled, sitting up and looking quite unconcerned for one in hospital issued pajamas.
“Don’t be a git, Malfoy. I really want to know.” Harry said, refusing to rise to the bait.
There was a pause, and suddenly Malfoy stood up, walking to Harry’s bed to sit at the foot of it. Harry still didn’t look away from the ceiling as he felt Malfoy’s weight settle at the foot of the bed.
“I suppose they didn’t kill me outright because the incantation calls for ‘a beauty bathed in sage and draped in white, untouched by the converse’ or something to that degree.” Malfoy studied his nails and lightly placed the other hand on Harry’s ankle.
Harry mused over that, then said “So…’untouched by the converse’?” the question here was obvious.
Malfoy lightly tapped a finger against Harry’s foot and said “the converse of a man is a woman, Harry. Clearly I’m gay. How could you not have noticed?”
Harry finally stopped counting the tiles in the ceiling and look at Malfoy, who met his gaze steadily. “Why would I? It doesn’t matter to me what you do.”
“Indeed?”
“Hm. You’ve been calling me Harry lately.” Malfoy’s hand was still on his ankle, and his weight on the foot of the bed was suddenly distracting. Realization hit him.
“Hey, Malfoy? Are you…uh, are you coming on to me?”
Malfoy leaned toward Harry, lifting his hand and drifting the tips of his fingers further up Harry’s leg. Harry sat up, and lightly smacked Malfoy’s hand away.
“Sorry Malfoy, but I’m not gay. Even if I were,” he said with a grin, “I’m sure I could find a bloke who didn’t hate me for most of his life! Maybe one who wasn’t so pointy as well, do you think?”
Malfoy sat back with a sniff, then rose and returned to his own bed.
“Do forgive my lapse in judgment. I simply cannot guess what I was thinking.”
“I can guess what you were thinking,” Harry chuckled, feeling smug “You were thinking ‘oh, big strong Harry saved me, and he’s so fit I have to have him!’ or something like that-“
“Shut it Harry, or I’ll shut it for you!” Malfoy snarled, turning his back on Harry in a huff.
Harry simply laughed.
--------
Good God, my arms ache. I typed this up in just two sittings, I’ll have you guys know. You probably thought I was dead forever, huh? Well, I’m back, and apparently into Harry Potter fiction! I’ll bet some of you were hoping for some hardcore H/D, but as you can see in this fic Harry is utterly straight. I did leave the door open for some friendship though, because another reason for sacrifice is a new beginning. On another note, this is unbetaed, and while I tried my best I can’t promise 100% error-free writing. I apologize for any you find!
Enjoying her (brief?) return to fandom,
Asaka