A/N: Well, it’s not half as long as I would like for it to be, and it’s certainly not half as long as you wonderful reviewers deserve. Thanks for your patience. Despite the numerous attempts on my life from angry fans since school started back, I’m still alive and kicking. I’ll be sending out a newsletter by the end of the week to everyone who has reviewed since the last chapter (I love you all). I thought you guys would like to have this first.

Chapter 21: Of Dark Wizards and Weasleys

Draco Malfoy stared at the priceless painting of a pair of Abraxans in flight that hung over the mantle in his father's study and tried to tune out the argument that was going on around him. It was ten o'clock. Hephaestus was expecting him at the Library, and his parents and godfather didn't seem to be any closer to a decision than they had been an hour ago when everything started to fall apart.

Honestly. If he had known that their reaction would be this bad, then he would never have told them about the conversation he had had with the Peverell heir yesterday. Not that he had told them exactly. He couldn't because of the Library's privacy spells. Over breakfast, his mother had merely asked what he had spoken of, so he had given her a much-edited version of the things he himself had said.

On reflection, this had been a bad idea. Without being able to repeat anything Hephaestus had said, it sounded a lot like he had just decided to give an almost complete stranger a crash course in Dark history, a confirmation of his father’s status as an active Death Eater, and an acknowledgement of his family as truly Dark. Worst of all, when his father, gray-faced and furious, had asked him about Peverell’s reaction Draco couldn’t respond because of the privacy spells.

“I’m going back aren’t I?” he had managed to say.

Unfortunately his parents had taken this in completely the wrong way. He’d meant for them to get the idea that he was going back to meet with Peverell on friendly terms, but they’d determined that he meant to go back to do damage control. And the more he tried to explain, the more the privacy charms tightened around him and the less he could say. He was frustrated.

Severus had arrived at 9:30 as expected to give Draco the final potion that would help out with settling his magic after the coming of age ceremony, and his godfather had been promptly roped into the whole awful misunderstanding. Severus was now bemoaning his idiocy too, which was completely unfair in Draco’s opinion. Really. Had he ever done anything to suggest he was indiscreet about being Dark?

By half past 10, Draco was seriously considering just leaving for the Library without permission. But he’d never been openly rebellious to his parents before…well, there had been that thing with the imported dragon when he was seven, but he didn’t usually do things that were expressly against the rules. The Malfoy family was definitely patriarchal. Most Dark families were. Lucius had said “You’re not to see that boy again,” and though Draco had every intention of going to see Hephaestus he didn’t feel comfortable contravening a direct order.

He decided to give speaking another go. His throat had nearly closed up when he frantically tried to explain that Hephaestus was fine with them all being Dark, so he approached it cautiously. “Father?”

They ignored him. Lucius and Severus were trying to decide whether it was necessary to have Zate bring his assistant to the manor for obliviation. That wouldn’t do. Draco didn’t want to be overconfident, but he felt that he was well on his way to convincing the Peverell heir that being Dark was okay; he didn’t need the overzealous legilimens to go scrambling up Hephaestus’ perceptions.

“Father!” he shouted.

They all turned to stare at him. He opened his mouth cautiously. “You’re overreacting.” When no asphyxiation occurred he continued. “You are unaware of certain realities of the situation.” There. Let them chew on that for a moment. It was bloody hard trying to come up with something to say safely.

Lucius seemed to be trying to compose himself without much success. “Could you clarify that for me, Draco? Or do you just expect me to ignore the fact that you have jeopardized the safety of not only this family but the entire community with your thoughtlessness?” he spat out.

Draco was just itching to put some blame on Zate for this. He knew from talking to Hephaestus that the old apothecary had been playing fast and loose with some information that was definitely supposed to be kept secret before he had even met the Peverell heir. Draco had just… contributed. “Maybe,” he said, quite snappy himself now, “you should trust me not to be doing something completely stupid. Maybe you should let me go to the Library now, so that I can meet Hephaestus, who I like, even after yesterday.”

His father narrowed his cold gray eyes. “What do you…”

“Oh for pity’s sake, Lucius!” his mother scolded. “Do you want him to be strangled by the privacy spells?”

Severus was staring at him so hard that Draco wondered if he was trying to pick information out of his mind despite the futility of it. “You may as well let him go, Lucius,” he said finally. “He can’t come to any harm in the Library, and even if you assume the worse, he can’t do any harm by revealing more to Peverell at this point either.”

They argued for awhile longer, but finally it was decided that Hephaestus wouldn’t be obliviated immediately. Lucius had insisted that he go with Draco to the Library, which Draco just knew was a bad idea. The Peverell boy didn’t like his father at all as far as he could tell, and Lucius’ presence was bound to make things hideously awkward.

As it transpired, he needn’t have worried. They didn’t make it to the Library until nearly 11 o’clock, and Hephaestus wasn’t there. Draco was disappointed, but he couldn’t blame Peverell for not hanging around for an hour. Lucius, on the other hand, thought the whole situation was suspicious. He fully intended to travel to Knockturn Alley that night and confront the boy.

Draco had no intention of letting his father threaten and possibly modify the memories of someone whom he was starting to consider as a friend. He’d have to warn Hephaestus at the very least. With that in mind, he waited until his father had left for the Ministry on business, then he headed for Knockturn Alley.

*******

Harry was in an odd mood as he exited Gringotts at noon. Malfoy hadn’t shown up at the Library, and as hard as he tried not to feel disappointed (because it was ridiculous for his longtime nemesis to be the cause), he was very put out by it. The goblins had also given him some trouble. The ritual room he had used for his midsummer observances was…different…since he’d used it, and they wanted to charge him a fee to return it to its original state.

He’d been to Gringotts to inspect the damage, and had been shocked to discover upon entering it that the room seemed to have decided to revert to nature. Shoots of grass were breaking through cracks in the floor and large flowering vines were beginning to creep up the walls. He’d halfheartedly suggested to the angry bank employee who was in charge of maintaining the rooms that this might be considered in a positive light. “Mr. Peverell,” the goblin had replied testily, “We are in the business of renting out ritual rooms, not terrariums.” He’d finally agreed to pay the fee.

On the other hand, he was still on a high from the Everclear Elixir. He was dreading the crash that would inevitably come, but he couldn’t help enjoying the feeling of clarity and alertness. He’d thought about trying to sleep it off, but the idea was laughable. He felt like he could fly without a broom. And, to top it all off, Harry was finding that life looked a little different as a Dark wizard. Diagon Alley felt empty.

He was terribly disturbed by this feeling at first. He couldn’t place what was wrong. Always before in daytime, Diagon Alley had felt alive, even rowdy. Now, everything seemed shallow and flat. He could feel the magic around him. It was strong, but it wasn’t deep. He eventually decided that it reminded him of Percy Weasley. All pomp and show but not enough substance to back it up.

Knockturn Alley, in contrast, was almost overwhelmingly vibrant. The magic was strange, beautiful, and feral. Harry loved it; it made him feel alive. But, at the same time, he could understand why not many would prefer it. The magics in Knockturn were lovely but deadly. They were poison and honey inextricably bound.

Harry was just passing the Magical Menagerie on his way back toward Knockturn when he ran into two people he had definitely never expected to encounter together over the summer. Draco Malfoy and Ron Weasley were standing by a Daily Prophet stand outside the store, and it was clear from their body language that a fight was about to break out.

The two were so caught up in throwing insults at each other that they didn’t see him approach. “Shut the hell up, Malfoy!” Ron bellowed. He reached in his pocket for his wand.

Malfoy smirked coldly. He didn’t pull his wand, but Harry would have bet galleons that he could get a spell off before Ron could. “Go on, Weasel. I’d love to watch you vomit slugs. Or do you think you could manage something more creative this time? Puffskeins maybe?”

Ron’s ears and neck were dark red. He looked toward the window. Harry followed his gaze. Mrs. Weasley was inside talking to the store clerk. Surely Ron wasn’t actually going to hex Malfoy in the street with his mother just feet away?

Draco seemed to arrive at the same conclusion. “Still can’t think of anything to cast? Well it’s no wonder Potter decided not to take you with him when he ran away. At least he can usually manage a first year hex or two. What do you do with your wand, Weasel? Use it as a backscratcher?”

“Harry didn’t run away!” Ron shouted. “And as for first year hexes…what does that say about your father? He got his arse handed to him at the Department of Mysteries a few weeks ago!”

Malfoy made a big show of examining his cuticles. “Hmm…yes. That little incident. It was such a relief when the Ministry realized they had wrongfully imprisoned an upstanding citizen.”

Ron’s wand was trembling in his hand. Malfoy appeared to be bored with the proceedings, but Harry could tell by the faint tightening of his jaw that he was alert. Harry felt oddly conflicted. He looked at the newspaper stand. There he was on the front cover. “The Chosen One Missing: Has Harry Potter Abandoned Us?” Apparently the Order hadn’t had much luck keeping his disappearance quiet.

He felt oddly conflicted. On one hand, he was furious with Malfoy. Here was the boy he had hated for the past five years at Hogwarts in all his cruel snobbish glory. Harry was just itching to pull his wand out and hex the blond. On the other hand, he was embarrassed for Ron. Didn’t Ron realize that Malfoy was playing him? Any minute someone, probably Mrs. Weasley, would walk by to see Ron with his wand pointed at an apparently unthreatening wizard.

Malfoy couldn’t resist the chance to needle Ron some more. “Did Potter even tell you he was running off like the coward he is? Or did he decide you were too much of a liability to be informed?”

Ron was about to erupt. Harry wanted to punch both of them. Malfoy for being such a bastard and Ron for being so blind to taunts that were clearly idiotic. Harry’s heart warmed at the knowledge that Ron defended him even when he wasn’t around, but surely he knew that even Malfoy wasn’t so self-deluded as to think Harry was a coward.

Mrs. Weasley was turning back toward the door. Harry stepped in to diffuse the situation before she could see. “Draco,” he said. “You didn’t show up this morning.”

Ron dropped his wand at the appearance of a third party, and Malfoy’s superior demeanor shifted into a genuine smile. “Hephaestus!” he said. “I’m so sorry. I was just coming to find you when I got sidetracked.”

“Yeah, I noticed,” Harry said a little more bitterly than he meant to. How could Malfoy be a normal, likeable human being sometimes and a complete jerk others? “Hi, I’m Hephaestus,” he said to Ron.

Ron looked like he wanted to hex him on principle. Harry could see the cogs turning in his friend’s mind. Surely someone who was on speaking terms with Malfoy was the wrong sort? In the end, Ron pocketed the wand and nodded grudgingly but refused to shake hands. He stalked into the store to join his mother.

It felt weird to leave a steaming Ron behind to walk off towards Knockturn with Malfoy, but Harry did it. He wasn’t at all in a charitable mood, but Draco didn’t seem to catch his feeling. They talked about casual, everyday things, but Malfoy seemed almost giddy with excitement. It wasn’t until they stepped into the quiet main street of Knockturn Alley that Harry remembered the original reason he had wanted to see Malfoy today.

As soon as they were out of sight of Diagon Alley’s shoppers, Malfoy turned to Harry, beaming and exclaimed, “Hephaestus! Why didn’t you tell me you were planning this? This is wonderful! It changes everything! I’m so…so…Wow!”

Harry was so annoyed with the other boy that it took him a moment to figure out what Malfoy was going on about. He reached up and touched a hand to his marked temple. He smiled in spite of himself. He was proud of the mark. He couldn’t help but be so. And now that he wasn’t fuming quite so much he took note of Malfoy’s own wing-like mark again. He felt a deep-seated flash of recognition, of welcome, and (he almost gasped at it) family. For the first time in his life, Harry Potter knew on the most basic, instinctual level that he was not alone.

Malfoy seemed to be about to burst with joy. “No one else outside of one of the families has taken a mark in years,” he said. “The last was Sev. I guess you’re technically part of an old family but still…Have you showed anyone else yet?”

“No,” said Harry, beginning to feel grudgingly amused by the blonde’s enthusiasm. “You’re the first.”

“Really!?” Malfoy was obviously delighted. “We have to tell everyone!”

“What? Right now?”

“Yes, right now!” Draco looked at him like he was mad. “You’ve no idea how exciting this is! Everyone’s going to be thrilled. And I know first!” He paused. “I mean, that’s not the most important thing or anything, but you told me first!”

He rambled on while he dragged Harry down the street towards the apothecary. Then he stopped. “Oh, bother,” he said.

“What?”

“I guess you’d probably better come home with me instead of going to tell Zate. Father’s decided he has to obliviate you.”

--------

Well, what did you think? I’m feeling a little rusty, but hopefully I’ll get back into the swing of things. Thanks to all of you who got on my case about getting this out. I got to it as soon as I could, but I appreciate the encouragement.

A few issues (more will, of course, be listed in the newsletter when it goes out):

Lucius’ Apparent Ability to Bypass the Library’s Privacy Charms --- Ouch! I don’t know how I made this mistake in the chapter wherein Lucius reveals Hephaestus’ existence to his fellow Dark wizards. This is probably the worst error I’ve made so far, and I’m grateful for the DLP forums pointing it out to me. It will be fixed…eventually. I’d rather move on with the story for now, and work out how to repair that gaping irregularity later with your kind permission.

Even if This is Not Slash, it Feels Slashy – *Rolls eyes* I am convinced that this is just another way for people to ask “Are you suuuuurrreee that this isn’t a Harry/Draco?” No. It’s not. I’m sorry if the Library scene felt off. I don’t have immediate plans to change it. It works for me. In response to the accusation that Harry and Draco blush too much…what? Guys blush when they’re embarrassed/have just said something stupid/or just in awkward situations. I’m a girl, but I have encountered the other half of the species frequently enough to know that blushing is a universal and largely uncontrollable bodily response. Next time should I have them fart and butt heads? It wouldn’t have the same literary effect at all but if you really want me to…lol.