The Bet

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Chapter XXVII - Meeting the Parents

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It had been a month, and Harry's list was really not getting him anywhere, even when he started comparing the people the amulet glowed around...there wasn't anything he could think of that would connect the people so strongly to garner the reaction. The only other person on his list that the amulet glowed around was Mikhail.

Mikhail had not reacted that well to the amulet. He mentioned that he had thought he had seen it glow once, but didn't like Harry's explanation of the meaning of the Kanji, and who else it glowed around.

"So...does that mean that you love me, or what?" Mikhail had asked, sitting on Harry's bed.

"I don't know, Mikhail," Harry said. "I don't know what it means, or what the connection is. That's why I'm asking everyone I know, to see what happens."

"Does it glow around Malfoy?"

"What?"

"You heard me. Does it glow around Malfoy?" Mikhail asked insistently.

"No. It doesn't. But it doesn't glow around a lot of people that I love, Mikhail. I don't think that's the issue, here."

"So, you think that it glows around people you don't love, then?"

"Mikhail, it glows around my two best friends...what do you think?" Harry turned away, frustrated. "Why are you being such a jerk?"

Mikhail sighed, standing up. "I don't know. I'm sorry, Harry. I have been a jerk, lately, haven't I?" Harry didn't answer, so Mikhail stepped forward, standing in front of Harry, and continuing with, "Harry, look at me. Please."

Harry looked up. "What?" he asked quietly, but tersely.

Mikhail touched the side of Harry's face, tracing his cheek bones. "Harry, I...I know can be jealous sometimes. I... When I care about someone a lot, I get this way. I'm sorry if that bothers you."

"Mikhail, I-"

"No, Harry I need to say this. I love you. I know I do. And I wish you could be happy, with me."

Harry's eyes started to tear. "Mikhail...I just don't know if I'm ready for that serious... For that serious of a relationship. I mean...you're my first...you know, anything."

"Are you saying you want to break up with me?"

Harry shook his head, blinking the tears from his eyes. "No, I'm not. I'm just...I don't know how to react when you say things like that. I don't know if I feel the same way, and I feel weird that I can't say anything back. I mean, how can you know that you love me?"

"Because I love the way you smile. The way your face lights up when you see your friends or you ride your broom. Even that little furrow in your brow when you're concentrating really hard. I love how you care about everyone before yourself. And you're beautiful. To me."

"But that's not really knowing me, Mikhail. You don't know everything about me."

Mikhail let out a little breath. "That's because you won't let me in, Harry."

"That's not true. I just-" He huffed, starting over. "We never talk about stuff like that. We never talk about what my friends know about."

"I never ask because I don't want to pry, and I thought, given time, you would open up to me yourself."

Harry shook his head. "I just never want to talk about it. Not anymore."

Mikhail nodded, kissing Harry's forehead. "I know. I know. I understand. But I love you, and don't think for one second that because I don't know everything about you that I can't. That I act this way because I'm trying to be an asshole. I'm just..."

"Possessive?" Harry joked.

Mikhail actually grimaced. "No. I guess I get jealous easily. I know this. And to be honest, I've felt threatened almost this whole time."

"By who?" Harry asked, thinking he knew the answer.

"Malfoy. And before you say anything, I know he has a girlfriend, and I know you two are just friends. It's just...off, to me, somehow. I don't know exactly why. I guess that's why I'm always so on edge."

Harry sighed, backing away and sitting down. "There's nothing I can do about that, Mikhail. I'm not going to stop being Draco's friend."

"I'm not expecting you to, Harry. Truly. I guess, maybe, that I'm just looking for some reassurance about our relationship. I don't want to lose you."

"Mikhail...you know I'm new to this sort of stuff. I don't even know what's going on in my own head, half the time. But I don't want to break up with you. I like you. A lot. That's the only reassurance I can give you right now."

Mikhail kneeled in front of Harry, placing his hands on Harry's knees. "Then that's all I'll ask for." He leaned forward, kissing Harry softly. Pulling away he said, "Is Hermione, that brilliant friend of yours, helping you figure this amulet out?" he asked, reaching up to touch it.

Harry jerked away. "Don't touch it! And yes, she is. We're trying to find similarities between the people it glows around. It's not easy though. It could be related to anything. Blood, feelings, eye colour, I don't know."

Mikhail sighed. "Well, you'll keep me updated, right?"

"Yeah," said Harry, tucking the amulet under his shirt.

That had been a tough day. Harry hadn't liked fighting with Mikhail. And he felt even worse when Mikhail told him he loved him.

How was he supposed to deal with that?

Then, about a week ago, Harry found a random passage about Oriental Magic. It stated that most old forms of Eastern Magic were designed to create the opposite or unexpected effect than what one would normally think; that by creating the opposite effect; it forces the caster/castee to divine the proper results themselves, so that its effect is more powerful.

Harry had spent the rest of the day trying to figure out what that had meant, exactly. He knew now that it meant love, but what was opposite about the way it was working? After all, he cared about everyone it glowed around, and obviously he loved some of them... but he also clearly loved people who didn't make the amulet glow... so what was the point? Maybe it didn't have to do with how he felt about them, but how they felt about him? But that didn't really make sense either... Honestly, he was drawing a blank, no matter how hard he puzzled over it, which was why he finally decided that he needed to talk to Hermione... after all, he didn't know anyone else who was better at solving those kinds of magical mysteries.

Term finals had begun, and with that, a pandemonium of studying and lack of sleeping or eating, and probably a little bit of snapping at each other, though they all knew they didn't mean it.

Harry and Draco finished up the Potion Ingredient Chart, which helped Harry immensely in his study. Draco holed himself up in his room with his books and parchment, and Raven spent more time in the art wing.

Hermione got on Ron's case, and Neville tried his best to politely ignore Luna's strange advice, while Luna hummed softly to herself as she studied her notes. Seamus and Ginny had a row or two, about not paying enough attention to one another, but always made up, which resulted in more long, sleepless study nights for the both of them.

Blaise shrugged it off nonchalantly, and Daphne, in her spare time, tried to puzzle out her secret admirer. Dennis and Kevin tried to keep the energy high with some jokes, but only got glares, and retreated into their own studying habits, whatever those might be. And Celestine tried to force Owen to stay at home and study, but the young man only insisted that he was doing fine, and that he needed the money as much as he needed the time to study.

Which was actually, what found everyone in their current state of either panic, confusion, defensiveness, or anger.

It all started the day before, however, with the arrival of Blaise's mum.

Arabella Zabini was beautiful, and she knew it. Everyone knew it. It was sort of hard to forget, when with just a look, she had men calling after her. It was as if she were a dark-haired, olive-skinned Veela.

She loved wearing robes of red, and even though an old-fashioned pure-blood witch, she found herself acquiring a few salsa red dresses of Muggle origin. It only made the adoration worse.

The problem was, of course, that everyone knew her widowing history, so as the years had passed, though many men, young and old, doted upon her, none would go so-far as to actually marry her. They were all quite content staying alive, and, most likely, wealthy.

This was why Draco dreaded seeing her. He was young, handsome, and wealthy. Her three criteria.

So when there came a knock at the door on the morning of Monday, December 15^th, Draco did his best to hide in his room. But Arabella would not be swayed. She refused to leave to her room at the local inn until Draco came down to say hello.

Groaning, hoping he was audible to the woman downstairs, he followed Blaise down, taking heavy steps. Once he was in sight, Arabella said, with her usual thick sultry voice,

"Draco Malfoy. I hear you don't want to see me?"

He mustered a smile. "It's not that, Mrs. Zabini. I am merely very busy at the moment." He reached the bottom stair, and took her hand without prompt, kissing the smooth skin. "You haven't aged a day," he said, thinking that he actually saw some laugh lines around her eyes. Should he tell her?

"Why, Mr. Malfoy...are you flirting with me?"

"Mum...leave Draco alone. Not every man wants to get into your robes."

"Blaise, I'll not have you speak to me that way. I am your mother."

"More like a who-" Draco clapped a hand over his friend's mouth, quite certain that he didn't want to finish his sentence, lest he find himself at the unforgiving end of his own mother's wand.

Draco removed his hand at Blaise's glare. "Draco, I don't think I'm going to speak to you anymore."

"Pish-posh, darling," his mother said. "Draco's your best friend. You'll always need him around," She said none too suggestively. "You'll join me for meal or two while I'm here, Draco?"

"Er...well, I'll see. I'm really very busy, and I'll be going home in a few days...after finals this week. In fact, I'd better go back upstairs and study."

Arabella pouted her red lips. "Oh, okay. I suppose a man does need his education now-a-days." She kissed Draco on the cheek and let Blaise lead her back to the inn.

Draco sighed in relief. At least that was over, and he managed to escape with no more than a bit of colour on his cheek. He ran upstairs and grabbed a wash cloth, scrubbing the red stain off his skin vigorously.

~~~~~

That Friday, Draco had the more nerve-wracking task of meeting Raven's parents...for, really, the first time. He had seen them once or twice over the years, with no more than a short greeting at memorials. This had more to do with Raven's lack of communication with them, than any real dislike they had for him or vice versa. Draco couldn't say he knew them at all well enough to make any kind of judgement.

He was to meet them in a half-hour at a small but classy French Wizard restaurant in Manchester called Le Pichet. Draco Apparated there early, securing a table for four. Ten minutes later, he saw an older couple walk in; a tall, slender, raven-haired girl behind them. The man was greying at the temples, tall and slim, with a straight nose and a serious set of glasses on the bridge. The woman was also tall and slim, but definitely womanly in form. Her hair was tightly curled, falling in ringlets down her back. Raven was nearly a spitting image of her mother.

Draco stood, smoothing down his robes, stepping out from behind the table to greet Raven's mother and father. Raven saw Draco first, however, and stepped quickly past her parents to launch herself into Draco's arms, pushing him back a few steps in his surprise.

"Draco! Oh, I'm so glad to see you," she whispered in his ear.

"I, er... I'm glad to see you, too, sweetie," he said, hugging her back briefly.

"I think what my daughter means to say is that she's sick of us already, and we've only been here for barely an hour," Mrs. Harrell said, standing next to her husband, with her arm looped in his.

Raven stepped back from Draco. "Why, mother, what would ever give you that idea?" Her tone was a perfect measure of sugar and sarcasm.

"Don't talk to your mother that way, young lady," Mr. Harrell admonished. He took a step forward, holding out his hand. "Pleasure to finally meet you properly, Draco," Mr. Harrell said with a calculating smile.

"And the same to you, Mr. Harrell," Draco said with a firm shake and a short bow of his head. Draco moved over to take the hand that Mrs. Harrell was holding out. "And Mrs. Harrell. You look lovely today." He bowed lower, kissing her knuckles and giving her hand a soft squeeze before releasing it.

Mrs. Harrell dipped her own head. "Why thank you, Draco."

"Shall we sit?" Draco asked, gesturing to the table behind him. "I hope the table is satisfactory."

Mr. Harrell waved Draco's comment away. "It's perfectly fine, son. We're not that stuffy."

They all sat down, Raven staring mostly at the table, and remaining awfully quiet. When Draco asked her if something was wrong, her mother said, "Oh, don't worry about her, Draco, dear. She just doesn't want us here."

"Mum, that's not true," Raven said, lifting her head. "I just wish you didn't have to make such a big deal about meeting Draco."

"Well, I think it's high time we should meet the boy," Mr. Harrell said, picking up his menu. "You two have been together for how long now? And we've never properly met."

"We only started dating in September, Dad," said Raven, picking up her own menu.

"But you've been dancing around each other long before that," her mother replied, setting her napkin across her lap, a note of finality to her voice.

"So, Draco, what do you plan to do after you graduate?" Mr. Harrell asked, looking over his menu at the blond.

Draco looked up from his own menu and said, "Well, I'm looking into apprenticing with my mentor, Severus Snape. However, I don't want to teach potions. I'd rather make them."

"So you plan to become the local Apothecary, then?"

"Dad!" Raven admonished.

"I'm simply curious, Raven. No need to think I'm needling the boy."

"I actually want to work on making healing potions more suitable for the human palate, sir," Draco said, to answer the question. "I am quite good at making healing potions."

"Well, that is a noble ambition," Raven's father said, and Draco smirked when Raven glared.

"Raven, relax," he said, patting her tense hand.

"How can I? They're acting as though they have to approve of you or something. I'm twenty-one years old; I can choose who I love and who I want to marry for myself!"

"Yet you still act like a child," her mother sighed, setting down her menu and waving a waiter over. "I think we're ready to order now."

"Are you intending to marry my daughter?" Mr. Harrell asked, looking very seriously at Draco.

"We've talked about it, sir, but wanted to wait until we had both graduated until making a firm decision," Draco fibbed smoothly.

"Well, do you love each other or not? That should be the only question you need to ask yourselves," Raven's mother said, before turning to the waiter. "I'll have the Assiette de jambon cru."

"I'll have the Pâté albigeois," Mr. Harrell followed.

"I'm not hungry," Raven said.

"Could you excuse us, please?" Draco said to Raven's parents, taking Raven's arm and leading her to the back of the restaurant.

"Perhaps I can come back later..." Draco heard the waiter say.

Raven glared once they were far enough away. "Draco-"

"Relax, I'm on your side."

Raven sighed, folding her arms over her chest. "I just don't know how to act around them, Draco. I'm always feeling like they're still judging me...scrutinizing every last thing, like I'm still a Death Eater."

"Sh, sh, shh," Draco said, rubbing her arms. "It's okay. Look, I'm fine, you're fine. They're just curious, and you know I can hold my own, okay? And honestly, I don't really care what they think. I obviously have a problem with authority."

Raven smiled. "Yeah, we both do."

"Which will probably make us terrible parents."

"Probably," Raven smirked.

"Come on, let's go back."

Lunch had actually gone fairly well after that. Draco engaged Raven's parents in their own lives, steering the conversation off of Raven when possible. Then the Harrell family left, taking Raven with them, leaving Draco with kisses and promises to see him soon. Mr. Harrell shook his hand and told him he was looking forward to seeing him for Christmas.

"I look forward to seeing your home, Mr. Harrell." Draco replied.

Mrs. Harrell smiled. "Now, don't feel obligated to bring any gifts; unless you're getting Raven something, of course. I won't say we know the details, but there has been talk over the years about the Malfoy family. I don't want you to go out of your way, dear."

Feeling a little uncomfortable, Draco just nodded. Raven stepped in, saying, "Draco's fine, mother," emphasizing the type of fine she meant. "Remember, we're going to Malfoy Manor for the break? That's why I'm only seeing you at Christmas?"

"Ah yes, well. Still don't feel obligated, Draco."

"I will have to bring a gift of my hospitality," Draco answered with a short bow.

Mr. Harrell clapped him on the shoulder. "I like this one, Raven. Not that you've ever brought anyone else to meet us, hm?"

"Yes, Daddy," Raven said with a roll of her eyes, taking her father by the arm and steering him out the door, sending Draco a final wave and smile goodbye.

Apparently, they were off to meet Harry Potter before going home. Draco laughed at the thought of Harry meeting Raven's parents. "He'll never survive," Draco had whispered to Raven, who giggled at the comment.

~~~~~

Draco was over at Harry's later that night, feeling a little strange with all of his friends around, but a free meal was a free meal, and the girls could cook. Seeing as it was the last day everyone would be together, Draco took great pleasure in knowing that Harry wanted him to be there, while Mikhail was not.

Of course, the Russian was now with his family in Yorkshire, but that was neither here nor there.

And this was when things started to go sideways.

Owen Cauldwell walked in the door with lipstick all over his mouth. Everyone got really quiet after noticing, and Ron actually stopped chewing his food, which surprised Draco, as he'd never seen the red-head do anything with food but inhale it.

"Er...Owen?" Harry said. "You've...er...got something on your mouth." He gestured to the area around his own mouth, signalling Owen to the stain.

"Huh?" Owen mumbled, rubbing at his mouth and looking at his hand. His eyes immediately got a little glassy and he simply said, "Oh."

"Oh?" Kevin said. "You come home looking like you were snogged within an inch of your life--quite randomly I might add--and all you can say is 'oh'?"

"He's right," Dennis cut in. "You've got a girl, and you've never told us?"

Owen shrugged, sitting down and grabbing a plate. "So I made out with someone, so what? I am I not allowed to have a relationship like the rest of you?"

"I don't have a girlfriend," said Kevin.

"Neither do I," Dennis chimed.

"Neither do I," Harry echoed, and after a moment of blinking, everyone chuckled at the joke.

Not five minutes later, the front door burst open and Blaise came in, calling for Draco.

"Draco! Draco!"

"Blaise?" Draco stood. "Blaise, what's wrong?"

Blaise followed Draco's voice and stopped right outside the dining area. "My mother! She's done it again!"

"Done what? What are you talking about?"

Blaise looked a little crazed. "She found some guy! Another one. I just saw her, and her lipstick was all smudged."

It didn't take much, but almost everyone in the room looked and or turned their heads to stare at Owen. Owen was tense for a moment, but then he had to leap up and around the table, as Blaise caught onto the movement, and noticed the same shade of red on Owen's mouth, and was leaping himself, shouting,

"You! It was YOU! You goddamned son-of-a-bitch! You fucked my mother!"

Everyone stood, some getting out of the way, but most of them standing by reflex and shock, not sure how to react.

Draco cut him off at the pass. "Blaise! Calm down!" he said, trying to restrain his friend, who was obviously about to kill Owen.

"I didn't fuck her!" Owen yelled, hiding behind Dennis and Kevin, who were still looking rather bewildered.

"It doesn't matter! You were obviously up to something!"

"Blaise!" Draco yelled.

"What?!" Blaise shouted, finally looking at the blond.

"Why do you care?" Draco said with a little force. "You've always hated how promiscuous your mother is, but why would you want to fuck up Cauldwell? Why aren't you yelling at your mother?"

"Because he's...he's younger than me! My mother shouldn't be fucking guys younger than her son!"

"I told you, we haven't fucked!" Owen said, which earned him a glare.

"Yeah, but I know you're bloody thinking about it! Leave my mother alone, Cauldwell. It's for your own good, trust me."

"Why? Are you gonna hex me, Zabini? I love her," Owen declared.

A few people looked surprised, but Blaise was livid. "Like fucking hell you love her. She's my mother, you little shit. And it's not me you gotta worry about. Have you ever heard of the Black Widow? That's my mother. She'd kill you first. She'll pretend to love you, marry you, then kill you when it's convenient for her. Once she's got a hold of your money."

"Zabini, Owen doesn't have any money," Harry said.

"What?" Blaise said, his head turning to Harry, who was behind him.

"It's true," Owen said, standing a little straighter. "We met at Celestine's. It's where I work. To help pay for school. I don't have much money."

"What Owen says is true," said a voice from the doorway, and they all turned to see Arabella Zabini, who was standing tall and powerful and beautiful, a serious and calculating gaze trained on her son. "I love Owen, Blaise. It has nothing to do with money."

"What? How? How could you possibly love him? You don't even know him! And he's younger than me!"

Draco shook Blaise a little to get his attention. "Blaise...think about this for a second. Your mother likes younger men; always has. How old have those men been?"

"I dunno...mid-twenties or so. What's your point?"

"My point is, that while Cauldwell may be a few years younger than us, we're not sixteen anymore. We're in the same age bracket as the other men your mother has dated."

Blaise frowned. "That shouldn't matter." He turned to his mother. "You should be dating people your own age, mother. Not some kid that hasn't even passed his N.E.W.T.s yet."

"You haven't either, Zabini!" Owen jabbed, glaring at the taller man. "Your mother is old enough to know what she wants, and I'm old enough to make my own decisions. Don't butt in."

"Shut the fuck up, you moron. You have no idea what my mother is capable of. She'll get rid of you when you'll least expect it, just wait."

"Blaise Zabini, that is enough!" Arabella commanded. "Regardless of who I am seeing, how old they are, or what my intentions with them are, you are my son, and you will stay out of my personal affairs. Do you understand?"

"No, mother, I don't. I don't understand, how after all this time, you can 'fall in love' with some penniless little brat who's more than half your age!"

Arabella took one step forward. "Have you never thought, son, that perhaps the other men I married deserved what they got? That they were horrible to me, and were maybe only after me and my monetary status?"

"Even my father? You killed him too."

Arabella's gaze narrowed. "I did love your father, Blaise. And he was the only one that I had a child with. But he never wanted children. He didn't want children so badly, that I had to kill him...the very second I saw his wand trained on you while you were sleeping."

There was an uncomfortable air in the room...no one there felt like they had the privileges for the topic of the conversation. But nobody moved. They couldn't.

Then Blaise finally did. He shrugged Draco's hands off his shoulders roughly, before turning and pushing past Harry and his mother, slamming the front door behind him in his wake.

Arabella bowed her head. "I am sorry you all had to witness that. And that this has interrupted your dinner. Draco, it was lovely to see you again; I'm sure it won't be long until the next time."

Draco nodded. "Mrs. Zabini."

Arabella turned and walked towards the foyer, and Owen moved around the table, pushing past Ginny, Seamus, Hermione, Ron, Luna and Neville.

"Arabel, wait."

As Owen went after the love of his life, the rest of the dinner party shuffled around, rearranging chairs and sitting down again, all in an uncomfortable quiet. They heard quiet words between the two in the kitchen, a soft kiss, and then Owen was falling heavily into his chair, rubbing his eyes.

"I'm sorry, guys. I didn't think this would be such a mess."

"Did you expect Blaise to take it with good grace?" Draco asked, a little miffed at his friends expense.

"No...I just...well, to be honest, I didn't quite realise that he was her son. She mentioned one, but I didn't put the two together."

Draco shook his head. "You're lucky, Cauldwell. Remember that. Italians are not known for their lack of tempers, and Blaise could have hexed you very badly, and probably beaten the shit out of you too. Just remember to pray to Merlin every night for your health and safety. And you might want to watch your back until Blaise cools down."

"Draco..." Harry said in warning.

"What? I'm being truthful. And seeing as I know Blaise best, I think I'm qualified to say such things in confidence."

Harry sighed, as did most of the table, and dinner was continued in silence and finished with murmured conversations among those sitting close. Owen didn't say a word the rest of the meal, and went up to bed early.