Just a cute little story I found on my computer. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.
The small group of Death Eaters had just managed to break through the wards of the quaint and utterly disgusting Muggle home. It was the home of the Boy-Who-Lived and they were there to take him dead or alive. The Dark Lord preferred alive but it wasn't necessary, and sometimes things just happen in the heat of battle.
They were expecting resistance; from the boy, from his relatives, and, if they lingered, from the Order as well.
They had managed to bring the wards down quietly but they didn't expect it go unnoticed for very long. The wards had already been weakened by the Dark Lord's return using the boy's blood but Dumbledore had hoped it wouldn't have mattered. He should have kept Potter at Hogwarts. Malfoy was honestly surprised he hadn't. He must not have expected the wards to be as weak as they were.
The three Death Eaters walked calmly up to the door of the Muggle home as if they were old friends who had come calling for a peaceful Sunday evening of cards and gossip. Malfoy knocked. They heard rustling, some music. It was all very irritating. And then the door was flung open and the boy stared at them for a moment, emotions flitting across his face faster than Malfoy could categorize before he settled on a wide smile.
The unexpectedness of the seemingly warm welcome forced Malfoy to pause and wonder and marvel.
"Well, well, well," Potter said crossing his arms and leaning against the doorjamb looking casual and confident. "If it isn't the Death Eaters come a calling. I told Dumbledore the wards wouldn't hold but does he listen? No! And now look! Well, you better come in before the neighbors see. It wouldn't do to have our centuries old secret blown sky high because you guys can't figure out that stripes look terrible with plaid. Honestly, you'd think the Wizarding world could afford a little fashion sense."
He began to walk away mid lecture, leaving the door wide open, and obviously expecting them to follow. Malfoy blinked in surprise but went in followed by McNair and Greyback. He followed the boy down the hall and into a Muggle kitchen that looked so clean it creeped even him out. His wand was clutched in his hand but he wasn't sure if he would need it. In all honestly, he wanted to find out what Potter thought he was doing.
"You know, you can take those masks off," the boy continued talking. "I know it's you Mr. Malfoy and I know that's McNair, and I know that's Greyback."
"How do you know who they are, boy?" Malfoy asked harshly finally finding his voice. The boy looked up from his perusal of the cabinets long enough to give him a wide smirk.
"Well, Draco has your eyes and I'd recognize your wand anywhere after you pulled it on me in second year. McNair was the one who was sent to execute Buckbeak and I recognize the scar on his arm. And really, who doesn't know who Greyback is? He's like a legend." With that he stuck his head into what Malfoy was pretty sure Muggles called an Icebox. He could see the boy's wand tucked securely in the back pocket of his ratty blue jeans. Something was off, Malfoy could practically smell it.
He was a little shocked at the boy's observational skills. He hadn't expected that. He had always been under the impression the boy was an incredibly lucky idiot.
"You're to come with us," McNair grunted as he tugged off his now useless mask, shrunk it, and stuck it in his pocket. The boy straightened up suddenly and looked over his shoulder at a white box with buttons sitting on the counter top. It displayed the time in weird, glowing green numbers.
"Do we have to go right now?" the boy asked. "The six o'clock news is about to come on and channel eight has this adorable weather girl. Besides it's about dinner time and I have to cook tonight. I'm making chicken, do you want some?"
"Yes," Greyback said before he could stop himself. Malfoy resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the animalistic man with a one track mind. The werewolf was also maskless and Malfoy quickly followed suit. He was starting to suspect that there would be no violence.
"Are you listening Potter?" he snapped. "We're here to take you to the Dark Lord."
"I realize that," the Gryffindor replied. "But in my experience the worst kidnapping attempts are those done on an empty stomach. So, dinner?"
"No!" McNair snapped. "Give me your wand!" Potter snatched it out of his pocket and tossed it to him. McNair caught it with a surprised look on his face. He really hadn't expected it to be that easy. The boy moved to the sink and turned on the water, washing vegetables and the chicken in the cold water as he continued to ramble. Malfoy was so confused he was surprised he was still standing. McNair was sneering at the boy, just as confused. The werewolf had taken a seat on the counter and was listening to the boy's chatter as if it was utterly fascinating.
"I kind of expected you guys to show up a little sooner," the boy was saying when Malfoy tuned back in. "I mean the wards have been getting weaker and weaker by the day ever since the Snake man came back on the scene. I was surprised as to how fast they went. I mean, they were always so strong and all. But then that's just my luck. Do you like cayenne? Is this like a super secret mission, or are there more of you outside? I don't have an endless supply of chicken but they can have some if they want it. What's Snake man planning on doing to me anyway? A simple AK, some torture? Live dissection? What about onion? You like onion?"
"Potter!" Malfoy nearly shouted, breaking through the boy's continuous prattle. He took a deep breath to calm himself knowing that losing his temper would only attract attention. The quieter they could do this the better and if Potter wasn't about to put up any kind of fight, who was he to complain. "Where are your relatives?"
"Oh! They'll be home late tonight," the boy replied with a smile. "Mr. Hartford is having a dinner party but his wife burns water so my Aunt asked me to leave them some food for when they got home. Well, ordered would be more like it but whatever. We'll have to leave before they get back though because my Aunt can scream really loud and Uncle Vernon has this shot gun that he bought to fight off all the freaky people coming to his house, so you know, we should go right after dinner and all. Oh! Should I bring my crap? I don't really suspect I'll need it and all but I'd rather not give them the satisfaction of being able to torch my things. You know?"
Malfoy had only ever seen Potter a few times for a very brief moment but he couldn't ever recall him being so chatty. It was going to give him a headache. He should probably just stun the brat and leave but he felt that there was an opportunity here, one he shouldn't waste.
"Yes," he replied silkily. "Tell me Mr. Potter, do you like being a Gryffindor?" Both of his companions sent him quick glances, wondering what he thought he was doing but willing to play along.
"Yeah, it's okay," the boy said over the sizzle of the chicken in the frying pan. "Sometimes it's a little hard, like when they found out I was a Parslemouth. My Housemates can be awfully mean. It kind of reminds me of Dudley sometimes, but at least at Hogwarts nobody dares to go too far. They're all scared of Dumbledore and McGonagall. Oh, and Hermione too. She can be kind of scary sometimes, especially when she gets cramps."
That wasn't quite the information he'd wanted; in fact it was far too much information. He did, however, notice the werewolf suppress a smirk.
"So you don't always find Hogwarts enjoyable?" Malfoy continued hoping that with just the right little push the boy would spill. He was starting to wonder if Potter hadn't hit his head recently or perhaps ingested something.
"It's better than here," he said with a shrug flipping the meat and expertly seasoning it. "I mean it's a magic school! How cool is that?"
"Yeah," the werewolf grunted. "Cool."
"Exactly!" Potter continued on excitedly. "Although I wasn't all that sure I was going to go until Hagrid said that my parents went there and I really wanted to find out more about them. My Aunt and Uncle won't even say their names. I thought they had died in a car crash until I was like eleven, so I thought that maybe Hogwarts would be a good place to start. And then I got roped into it. I wanted to quit and go to Muggle school last year but Dumbledore wouldn't let me."
Now that was news to Malfoy. The boy had tried to leave?
"Why ever not?" he asked pleasantly as Potter brought down some plates.
"He never really did say," the boy replied. "Something about destiny and playing my part."
"And what did he say about destiny?" McNair asked, seizing the opening. Potter paused and looked at them with an uneasy expression.
"I don't know if I should tell you," he said. "I wouldn't want to tell tales, you know? I'm not a gossip."
"We won't tell anyone," Malfoy soothed the crazy child. Potter gave him a searching look, shrugged and continued talking as he dished the food out and handed each man a plate, directing them to the table.
"Well, when I was a baby Snake man came to kill me, like you know, because of this dumb prophecy that said that we would have to kill each other. Sit down, would you, the chair doesn't bite."
"This is the prophecy stored in the Ministry?" McNair asked and then winced slightly as Malfoy kicked him sharply under the table. Potter may not have known that. The boy shrugged again.
"I don't know where it's stored, didn't even know it was," he said, setting his plate down. "Hey, my Uncle has this awesome wine that his coworker brought back from France. You want some?" Without waiting for an answer he set the bottle and the corkscrew in front of Malfoy, and then went back for glasses. He came back with three for the Death Eaters and a Muggle fizzy drink for himself.
Normally Malfoy would be suspicious but the wax seal was unbroken, and Potter wasn't allowed to use Magic over the holidays. He was positive it was safe to drink. He uncorked it and poured. He then ate the chicken and rice that Potter had cooked up. It was surprisingly good. Delicious in fact and he wondered if the boy hadn't been a House Elf in a previous life.
Potter kept a running commentary throughout the meal and Malfoy had to marvel at the absurdity of the entire situation. They were there to kidnap him and yet the boy insisted they have dinner with him first. If it had been anyone else he would have suspected some sort of subterfuge but this was Potter, the golden Gryffindor who was so easily manipulated to do whatever they wanted.
"Hey, Mr. Malfoy, you work at the Ministry right?" Potter asked halfway through the meal.
"Yes, I do," he replied bluntly.
"Did you hear about the Dementor that came after me and Dudley a few days ago?" he asked and the blond man nodded. Of course, he had heard about that. Who hadn't? Although most people thought the boy was lying through his teeth but he knew better. The Dark Lord was hoping to use Fudge's utter stupidity to discredit Dumbledore and spirit away the Potter boy.
"Yes I did," he replied.
"C'n you believe they're going to prosecute me for under aged Magic?" he asked indignantly. "It's total bullshit! Greyback you have experience with Ministry dumbness, what do you do?"
"Eat their children," Greyback replied honestly and coldly. Potter blinked at him trying to formulate an answer and Malfoy and McNair had to suppress a smirk. They may not publicly rub elbows with the werewolf but in the privacy of masks and meetings they were close allies. All three had a perverse love of violence no matter how differently they expressed it.
"You enjoy baby back ribs," Potter said knowledgably and McNair nearly chocked. "I hear werewolves do. Although, Remus doesn't seem anything like you. You know him right? He's a werewolf too, kind of shabby looking, really loves chocolate?"
"I know him," Greyback replied taking a swig of his wine. Malfoy had heard the story about what had happened between Greyback and his 'cub'. Lupin had spied on his pack for nearly two years before committing what the werewolves considered to be the ultimate sin. Betrayal of the pack. Even the Dark Lord had not asked Greyback to turn against any werewolf. It had been a complicated and volatile time for the werewolves and violence between them and wizards had risen sharply.
"Yeah, he's really nice, but I'm not too sure I like him even if he was my Dad's friend," the Potter boy continued, oblivious to the implications of what he was saying. "He taught me how to cast a Patronus but then he tried to eat me, so…yeah. I know it wasn't technically his fault but he's kind of negligent you know? A werewolf teaching at Hogwarts has no excuse for forgetting his Wolfsbane potion."
"So you don't like Lupin?" Malfoy asked sensing a potential wedge. He wondered just how loyal Potter was to Dumbledore.
"I'm not too sure; I don't really know him all that well. Sirius too," he said and Malfoy raised his eyebrows. It was no secret that Black loved Potter like a son. He had thought that surely the boy would feel the same way. "He's my Godfather but sometimes I wonder if he's looking at me or if he's looking at James. And then I wonder if he's confused because of Azkaban or if he's just confused overall."
"Who knows," Greyback replied. "You should ask him." Malfoy noticed a bit of a slur to his words and wondered how much wine the werewolf had had. He felt a pinprick of anger. The last thing he needed was a drunk dog on his hands.
"I should," Potter agreed. "You'll have to kidnap him too so that we can have a heart to heart in the dungeon." The werewolf laughed but Malfoy was no longer listening. His eyelids felt heavy, he felt lethargic, and Potter's voice sounded funny. Like he was talking from far away, much further than he really was. Warning bells sounded in his head.
The blond Death Eater stood up and pointed his wand in the direction of the boy. But his vision was blurry, his senses dulled, and he felt so tired.
"What did you give us?" he half mumbled, half slurred. Malfoy couldn't see the boy's face but the triumphant note in his tone gave him more than enough reason to believe the boy was not as stupid or as insane as Malfoy had thought him to be.
"You Mr. Malfoy have been tricked," the boy said. He heard McNair tumble to the ground as he tried to stand as well. "You think I don't know that you would come for me? Please, Mr. Malfoy, I'm not stupid. And never take a drink from a Muggle. I don't need Magic to slip you a mickey."
At that point Malfoy tumbled back into his chair as his legs gave out. He fumbled in his pocket for the vial of general anti-poison. He uncorked it and downed it as Greyback fell forward onto the table.
"It won't work Mr. Malfoy," the brat continued. "It wasn't a potion I gave you and it wasn't poison."
"What…was it?" he hissed fighting to stay awake.
"A very liberal dose of Benadryl," the boy told him. "Very effective allergy medicine. It also makes you tired. I gave you enough to knock you out fast and for a long time. Normally it doesn't work this fast or this well but you have no tolerance for Muggle drugs."
He didn't hear the end of the sentence. He was out cold.