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Vera Ginny's angry return home shook the house as she railed against irresponsible brothers and nasty old potions masters. As she ranted and raved, he emerged from his room and walked down the hall. Ron's bedroom was unlocked and unwarded to his great surprise. The whole room was cloaked in darkness and it took a moment for Percy to realize the shutters were locked shut. He forced them open and cracked the windows to air out the clinging smell of must. He knew that his mother wouldn't stand for dust or close air, but he had a feeling that Ron's combative nature had been showing in more ways then one. Little had changed here since Ron had gone off to Hogwarts' to begin his training. The same Chudley Cannons posters and ageing banners hung on the walls. The same small collections of third-rate drawings done by Bill and Charlie of their many adventures were piled in a bin marked: Correspondence. All the blankets and curtains were red with gold trim with the quiet anticipation of Gryffindor sorting that was never to be. Quickly, he packed a small trunk with the necessities for a trip. He found only an endless series of black robes in every kind of fabric. Well, Percy hadn't totally missed out on his family's strain of mischief. Besides, this was for a good cause. Whispered spells brought far more gentle and flattering soft browns and creams. Short sleeves too and bulky sweaters. Amenities were easily found in the bathroom, carefully charmed to speak their purpose. With a miniaturizing spell, he packed the suitcase into his pocket. A clutch took him by surprised and he collapsed onto the bed, hand over his heart as it beat out painfully four, five times, before containing normally again. The spikes of heat and ice in his blood pulsed in ugly patterns. "Percy?" Ginny hung in the door. "Are you all right?" "Fine." He croaked. "Just fine." "Are you sure? You look..." "Yes. I packed Ron's case. If you don't mind, I'll take it." After a long studying look, she nodded. To avoid further complications, he Apperated from the spot to Hogsmeade. He'd use the floo at the Saucy Kettle after he'd had some of Marta's impossibly good stew and strengthening lager. The whole walk there it seemed like his heels were attached to his heart and every step yanked it impossibly hard. By the time he sat down to eat, a light second skin of cold sweat clung to his clothes and dampened his hair. Marta left him to his stew, showing that her famed policy of non-interaction was just as good as her cooking. The good heat solid heat of meat and potatoes helped to unwind the steel bands around his heart and the lager disintegrated the shards of glass in his veins. When it came time to floo, he was presentable. And that mattered. No need to worry the only friends he had left in the world. Time enough for that when he was truly incapacitated. "Look, I don't care what it takes, I want it on my desk by five. I refuse to let crazed Aurors loose on the world." "But sir...." "No! The violence is over. I want these people brought to justice without bloodshed." The new Minister of Magic was not what anyone in power had expected. When you hired a general, you expected military, order and a strict set of careful ideals. Instead, they had this passionate peace crazed child! Harry regarded the Heads of the Departments. Behind his glasses, green eyes twinkled merrily and a smile twitched at both corners of his mouth. "Well, gentlemen and ladies. I suspect there is going to be a whole lot of change around here." The same thought struck them all at once. They'd inadvertently hired Dumbledore's bred and selected heir. The deflation was so rapid that Harry's twitching lips lost the battle and broke out in a wide smile. The past half-year melted away. He had purpose, determination and a lot of work to be done. "First, I want to order a retraining of all field agents on the new rights of all wizards and witches regarding search and seizure. I'd also like to have a Ministry wide meeting to re-evaluate all wartime laws. I think some of them are about to become seriously updated." "But sir, there's still some clean up going on..." "The war is over, Mrs. Grace. I suggest that unless you want to clean out your desk, you accept that." "Oh." The prim Head of Tandem Magics gasped. "I want to make one thing perfectly clear." And here was the General they wanted. "I have a lot of issues with this government and I am not afraid to fire every last person here if that's what it takes to make it a viable peace time organization. Do I make myself clear?" Everyone nodded at once. "Good. This meeting is adjourned. " They scurried out, already whispering and planning among themselves. When they were all gone, he nodded at the corner. A shiver in the air revealed Ron, his spikes flattened from the short stint under one of Lily's invisibility cloaks. "Most of them were just surprised. Even Mrs. Grace was taken aback, but not truly angry. Look out for the Departments of Experimental Magics and Travel. The Aurors are going to need a thorough investigation." Harry grinned. "That silver gloss can be pretty handy." "Sure, mate. Look I promised Snape I'd be back as soon as I could. The Dragonsbane only delays a few hours." "My floo is your floo." "Harry...." "Don't tell me you can't floo by yourself." A soft sigh was his only reply. "Merlin, Ron, I'm sorry." "No more then I am." The bitterness was light, but unmistakable. "I didn't think sight would affect flooing..." "I can't be sure I've wound up in the right place. And it's not easy to get back if you're not sure where you came out from." The red head sighed, hard. "Would you mind...?" "Not at all." They flooed together to Snape's lab where Dumbledore had kindly aided a floo connection in deference to recent traffic there. Ron barely avoided a complete sprawl on the floor. Harry helped to him to his feet. "King!" Harry rounded, searching for the childish voice. A gorgeous blond was playing checkers with a faintly bemused Percy Weasley by a merrily burning fire in a small fireplace. The table between them had been designed for chess, but was cheerfully dotted with red and black. Snape sat in high backed chair nearby the game, a book propped in his lap, his eyes lost in the flame. "Fine, there." Percy plopped another red disc onto Draco's triumphant one. "But I still say you cheat." "You're just a bad loser." "Draco." Snape admonished from the chair. The blond pouted. "Didn't cheat." "Yes, you did. And you got caught. What have I told you about that?" "Never cheat if someone can catch you." "Hasn't Percy always caught you?" "Yes." Draco pouted, but seemed to take the lesson to heart. Percy rolled his eyes and the game continued with Snape back to his book. It was...almost homey. Harry watched, a little bemused himself as Ron slumped down into the chair next to Snape's and began to a mumbled conversation. "Are you just going to stand there, Minister? Or are you going to sit and take your beating from my son like a man?" "What?" "Harry plays checkers?" Grey eyes lit up. "Well, I mean...a long time ago..." "Good. Sit." Percy stood and stretched. "Let someone else get beaten to a pulp. I'm going to find out where our tea got to." Harry sat, played and lost. Three times to Draco's triumphant grin and settled into a strange, but welcoming feeling of the dark Slytherin study with all of it's shadowy broken occupants. When the third game ended and someone pressed a hot cup of tea into his hand. Ron and Snape seemed off in their own world, speaking in the complex ribbons of theory as their subjects overlapped. Watching his friend, Harry had odd flashes back to the war when they had poured over maps with similar diligence and Ron introducing the newest innovation in the same jumble of jargon. Percy seemed content to sip his tea while Draco sat at his feet braiding long, colorful strings into tangled patterns. And Harry had to wonder how many times they sat like this before, after a night spent in the hands of darkness. As warm and safe as he felt here, he knew enough to see that it wasn't his home. "Good night then." "You're leaving?" Ron cast a glance that found him unerringly. "Minister's work is never done and all. I'll see you later." "Goodnight Harry!" Draco smiled shyly at him and Percy nodded gravely. Reluctantly, he put down his cup and went to the floo. He had paper work to finish and then home to Godric's Hollow to ignore his parents' concerned stares and the walking mound of mourning that was his godfather. "Please, Snape. You're my only hope." Severus hadn't spoken in over a minute. He seemed frozen in shock. "Uh, sir?" Ron nudged his frozen companion. "I'm fine." Snapped the potions master. He turned to stare at the wreck of a man in front of him. "I'm not sure I heard you right." "I want you to help me die. " Age-old enemies stared at each other, unaware of how alike they looked with long black hair, pale skin and almost skeletal frames. "I don't kill, Black. Go find someone else to pin your suicide too." "No one else will help." The stare down continued. Finally Snape sighed. "I refuse, Black and believe it or not, it's nothing personal. I made up my mind a long time ago to never again help kill another person and I don't intend to break that because you've lost your will. " "Snape....I...please...for Remus?" The outbreak of violence was so rapid, that Ron only heard the fast smack of flesh against flesh. "You will never take his name in my presence again. I will not kill you because of some bond you think we share..." Ron stared. He groped blindly until he got a fist full of heavy robe and tugged hard. "I can't 'see' him. I know he's there because I hear him, but otherwise...nothing. There's no one there." "Intriguing." Snape regarded his archenemy wearily, letting the tension between them ease down and shaking the clinging hand from his robes. "Go home, Sirius and if you value your life so little then find some Dread Flower, dry it, crush it and mix it in with your morning's pumpkin juice." He growled. "And for Merlin's sake, leave my name out of it. " "Thank you." A faint whiff of release filled the air, but before Ron could ask him anything Sirius was gone. "There goes a waste of a human being." The voice was stiff with contempt, but Ron easily caught regret there and more then a little sadness. Snape turned to find his newest experiment looking very preoccupied and a world different from the Lt. General who'd taken up so much angry space on his first visit. Ron was outfitted in Percy's mischief, washed out jeans and a warm brown sweater that easily molded itself to the toughened body. The mohawk had died a coughing sad death as Ron gradually lost interest and distanced himself emotionally from the man he thought he was supposed to become. Two days ago, he'd taken a small dosage of a Malcolm's Hair in the Bottle. Now a fine river of Weasley red brushed unevenly past his shoulders. "Better he should find an easy death then resort to some barbaric method." "Yes....but I wish it could be different." Snape hesitated, before gently setting a single hand on one strong shoulder. "Wishes are all well and good, but better to succeed where he has failed and make do with what life has left us." The hand was removed as swiftly as it was laid down, but Ron felt the fleeting warmth for long minutes after. Snape moved off to mix a new batch of Eye Peeling Cream with a heavier concentration of beetle antennas. In the corner of the lab, Percy was assisting Draco in creating a new Color Shift potion that the slender blond had been working on for months. Ron turned back to his task of reorganizing yellowed lecture notes with their worn tired Snapeish voices from before war times. The four of them bustled around the lab with happy purpose and all the feelings of wasted days and time, frustrated aggression...they had all bled away. Ron let out a low, inaudible sigh and returned to the yellowed papers. The board was still the same. Draco bit his lower lip and tried to figure out what was so different about things lately. He glanced around the chambers he lived in his whole life. Papa was frowning over some translation in his stiff backed chair and that was so typical that he almost lost the feeling entirely. Then long bone white fingers reached up to shove some hair out of black eyes, before Papa turned to Ron, who was ensconced on the far more comfortable couch, and asked him a question about the effect of Pediliectous Charm on Infidelity potions. That was certainly different. Draco spared a moment to beam at his new housemate. Ron was great fun and made Papa less sulky at night. They talked like old friends and sometimes stayed up late into the night arguing over nit picky theories. But that has been going on for nearly two months now, so it wasn't what felt so abruptly different. "Draco..." He turned to see Percy looking expectantly at him. "It's your turn." "Right." The red and black pieces on the white and black board pulsed uneasily. With deliberate hesitation, he moved one piece, capturing four of Percy's. "King." "Yes, your majesty." With feigned displeasure, Percy capped off his piece. "I don't know why you play with me when you can beat me so easily." "Winning is fun." He smiled and felt that tiny falter of change again when Percy smiled back. It was such a strange smile with that long white scar, a twisted half attempt, but it made his heart stutter. Especially when those chocolate brown eyes caught his. Why did Percy look so much better then Ron when the two shared nearly the same face? "It's your turn now." "Bratling." Percy muttered, but dutifully stared down at the board. The game went on and segued into others, Draco's mind wandered. Was there something wrong with him? It was so hard to know. He'd never really wanted to leave the warm, damp confines of the dungeons, but when Percy left at night, he wanted to go with him. He wanted to see where his friend lived and ate. He knew that during the days, he mostly volunteered at St. Mungo's since he was living of his veteran's stipend like Ron. Perplexed, he considered talking to Papa, but he felt oddly uncomfortable speaking with him about this. That only left Ron. Of course, Draco knew and tolerated the presence of most of the teachers at Hogwarts' and the Headmaster, but none of them ever spoke to him the way Ron, Percy or Papa did. Like a person and not some broken little boy. He waited until Papa went back to his lab to check on thickening salve, leaving Ron buried in lecture notes. "Ron?" "Hmm?" Draco paused, searching for the right words. His silence seemed to catch the red head's attention and soon eerie silver eyes found his own. "I...I feel funny." If Ron felt any surprise at hearing 'I' from Draco, he did a deft job at ignoring it. It wasn't that his speech was defunct as Papa would readily tell anyone who asked, Draco just felt more comfortable leaving himself out of his words entirely. Easier to fade away. "Are you sick? Should I get Snape?" "No! Not....sick. Like, strange funny." He shrugged helplessly. "Whenever Percy is here." The odd liquid that was Ron's eyes rippled suddenly and small sad smile twitched at the ends of his lips. "Oh, Draco. Come here." A little frightened, but trusting his father's friend, Draco moved onto the couch and was surprised by a warm hand on his arm. "What you're feeling...Draco....is something like love." "But..." "It's not yet, well...I don't know why. I'm not really an expert on these things." He sighed. "I'm actually fairly shit with them." "Love?" Pale lids fluttered shut. He'd read about it, of course, but he'd never thought much of it as applying to himself. When his teenage hormones had kicked in, they scared him more then gave him pleasure thanks to his years with Riddle. Papa had helped him through it, which had been a fairly embarrassing time for the both of them and in the end, Draco found his own touch pleasing, but had never truly contemplated someone else involved with the whole thing. "It's not that surprising, I guess." Ron went on, seemingly speaking to himself. "I mean, Percy and I are probably the first people vaguely you're age that you've had contact with all these years." But I don't feel this way about you, Draco said to himself. And you're so like Percy except, for that angry, fearsome edge and the Silver Sight. "What do I do?" He settled on. "I don't really know." Ron sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'll tell you what... let me talk to Percy first, all right? Merlin, I don't even know if he's into blokes." "What?" "Not every one is attracted to men." Ron explained patiently. "Didn't Snape tell you anything about all this?" Draco shrugged. "Yes. No... it wasn't easy to talk about." He willed Ron to understand. "Well. Right. I mean, I suppose Snape's had a bit on the side at some point?" Draco stared at him blankly. "A women who visits at night or someone he meets outside?" "No. But there is a picture hidden in one of the books where he's kissing another man. Not someone who's been here ever and it's yellowed." "Oh..." Severus Snape with a childhood romance....far too strange to contemplate... and yet, Ron felt saddened. Was that the Remus to whom Sirius had referred? But that man had been dead nearly a decade if he remembered correctly. That was too long for someone to go without love. Draco was a fine companion if one were interested purely in potions and checkers, but surely Snape with his quick mind and quicker tongue yearned for at least intellectual stimulation if not sexual? In the two months he had been here, the only people who'd come to the dungeon were other teachers. "Draco?" "Yes?" "Even if I talk to Percy and find out that he.... fancies you. What then?" The petit blond hugged his knees to his chest. "Ask him to play checkers? I'm not stupid, Ron. I know I'm not good for much else." And the conviction and sadness behind those words were far too much. Ron dragged the smaller man to him and hugged him close. "Don't ever say that. You're far from worthless, Draco. I think Snape might have died a long time ago without having you about. And the potions that you're 'playing' with are major breakthroughs in the field. Snape's been explaining some of them to me and they're far too complex for a layman like me to handle. So you're not the most social creature in the world, so what?" He snorted. "Besides, Percy's a few straws short of a broom himself." "Really?" "Merlin, Draco, he disappeared for six months without a word. He walks around the house some days reading Muggle literature and staring out windows, mouthing the words to himself. He's barely sleeping, according to Mom's owls and the patients he helps at St. Mungo's are the catatonics because he doesn't want to talk to anyone. I think the only time he's even vaguely happy is when he's here." "Doesn't that worry you?" The silence was heavy. Ron flickered through his most recent memories of Percy, the sense of despair and ruin when he arrived and the lightening of it while he played with Draco, the returning flicker every so often. When they speak together, he can practically taste it in the air. "Yes. Very much so. And now I have as good a reason as any to speak to him." "Ah. I see that Draco has convinced you that cuddling is more beneficial then work. It seems to be his sole goal in life." Snape drawled. "We were having a man to man discussion. Right, Drake?" "Yes." He said with the air of someone who was not sure what they were agreeing to. "Of course." The sarcasm was laid on fairly thick on that one. "I believe it's time for us all to get some rest. Draco, go wash up." The blond dutifully rose, leaving Ron feeling vaguely empty. He heard Snape settle back into his chair. "Don't get his hopes up." And the hurt was so obvious that Ron had to fight the sudden, creepy urge to cuddle Snape. "He's suffered enough..." "You can't keep him locked up forever, you know." He replied gently. "If you do, someone's just going to take him where you can't be any help at all." "I want to spare him. Shouldn't someone have a life unspoiled?" The bitterness echoed between them as Ron discarded half a dozen pat answers. "It's not your choice any more. He's finally growing up and one day he's going to want to see the world. Every parent deals with it eventually, you just got the good part for longer. My mom would kill to have one of us still ten years old, bony and covered in dirt." "Draco was never a particularly dirty child." Snape said vaguely. "Perhaps, you're right as much as it pains me to admit it. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm to bed." The maelstrom of emotions left in the room as Snape sauntered out kept Ron firmly planted on the couch, watching the fire for an extra half hour before he went tangle with the elusive dragon of sleep. next part last part << |