The Killing Curse

Chapter Nine -- The Long Journey Home

For the next two weeks, Harry, Ron, Hermione and Draco remained, for the most part, holed up in the posh hotel, avoiding both the Muggle press and the Wizarding newspaper reporters. While Harry was more than thankful that the hotel adhered to a privacy policy seemingly stricter than the wizard's secrecy statute, he couldn't help but grumble each morning, knowing that he had just dropped another sack of galleons out of his Gringott's bank vault for the night in the hotel. Up until now, Harry was never one to be overmuch concerned about money. However, in his opinion, the exorbitant fee for the hotel was not money well-spent -- especially because Harry so longed to go back to England, and longed to begin his life with Hermione in the small town of Godric's Hollow in Surrey.

Mixed among Harry's growing dread at the prospect of another encounter with Voldemort, Harry felt guilty for subjecting Ron and Hermione to the same tedium he suffered. Even though Ron and Hermione put on brave, happy faces, Harry knew they were bored knackered. There is, after all, only so much one can do in a hotel room. However, Harry and Hermione, when they were alone, took all the time they needed to do just that.

The tedium was also broken by more meetings with Agent Travis and Inspector MacGillen. They had advised Harry that he and Hermione would be interrogated by the American Federal Aviation Administration (FAA), and the Homeland Security Department. They asked him not to mention anything about Voldemort or Killing Curses or Death Eaters. Harry happily obliged them.

By the time the FAA had gotten round to questioning Harry, he had enough practice that he gave his answers by rote, mainly, "I don't remember that, sorry, my condition, you know." After a time, all of the interviewers, questions, badges, offices, suits, notepads, tape recorders, dark rooms, and coffee pots whirled into a great blur in his mind.

After the investigators were finished with Harry, Agent Travis happily told him that he was free to go home. Harry and Draco shook the investigators' hands, bid them goodbye, and promised to be at their call when the time came.

Back at the hotel, as Harry and Hermione were packing their honeymoon suitcases for a third time, there was a knock on the door. Hermione could hear Ron's distinct booming voice. "You kids ready in there? Are you decent? Can I come in?"

Hermione finished zipping up Harry's dopp kit and crossed to the door, opening it with a happy flourish. "Come in, Ron. We just finished snogging and all...you can bask in our afterglow." Hermione raised an eyebrow. Harry, who was hastily folding t-shirts, looked up at Ron and grinned with mock-innocence.

"Oh, come off it, you two." Ron brushed his hair back as he pulled his large suitcase behind him into Harry's room. "So, has Draco told you our big plans for getting you two home, then?" Ron stifled a knowing smile.

"No," answered Hermione. "I certainly hope it's not an aeroplane, though. Think we've had our fill of those, now haven't we?" She looked at Harry, who was grunting and letting out a frustruated breath at his inability to close his suitcase.

Hermione, sighing and rolling her eyes, took out her wand. "Pack!" she said, flourishing her wand.

Harry's suitcase flew open, the top flap whacking him under the chin. "Ouch!"

"Sorry, Harry." Hermione giggled. The contents of Harry's suitcase came flying out, shirt by shirt, shorts by shorts, socks by socks, and arranged themselves neatly on the unmade feather bed. Then, in organized piles, the shirts, shorts, socks, and Harry's other things neatly placed themselves back into the suitcase. The top closed with a "whap," and the zipper moved smoothly around the case's perimeter, sealing it shut. Even the small padlock fixed itself between the two zipper pulls and snapped shut.

After repeating the same with her own suitcase, the toiletry bag, and the carry on packs, Hermione smiled, surveying her successful and organized packing job. "Ready to go then, Ron. Where's Malfoy? Where has he gotten off to?"

Ron smiled. "Believe it or not, he's off checking with a wizard who lives in a flat up the street to see if we can use his fireplace. We need to get to New York before we can get home. Draco's let his apperation license lapse, so we can't travel that way, popping out of here and into New York. He's seeing about using floo powder - seeing if the wizard's hearth is connected to New York via a floo network, you know, like we have back home." Ron smiled. "I think Malfoy's coming back around eh? To wizarding, I mean."

With that, Harry heard a soft tapping on the door. Ron, closest to the door, moved his suitcase aside and opened it. The hotel bellman was standing there holding an envelope addressed to the three of them. The bellman handed Ron the envelope, and then held out his hand, waiting. Ron, clueless, merely shook it heartily. The bellman, in complete shock, dropped his hand, scowled, and walked away.

"Oh, Ron, you are so thick sometimes." Hermione blurted out, racing to cross the room before the bellman could disappear down the hallway. She called through the open door. "Hullo! Sorry! Come back!" The bellman raced back and Hermione handed him a twenty-dollar bill of Muggle money she had saved from their vacation. "Uh, he's from the country, you know," Hermione whispered, "doesn't understand tipping and all that. Sorry." The bellman stared at the twenty in his hands, then at Hermione, and then back to the bill in his hands, smiling. Hermione turned on her heels, trod back up the hall and back into the room.

Ron, turning a hot shade of pink at Hermione's chastizing glance, opened the envelope. It was a note, written in Draco's flowing, loopy pen. "Meet me at 1001 Lakeside Drive, Unit 1554. It's just up the street. Bring your things. I'll be there at 1:00. All is set for travels home. Signed, Dillon."

Ron smiled. "Well, it's on then, let's go."

The bellman turned and headed back to their room to ask if he could carry their bags or anything that would garner another generous tip. Suddenly, the bellman heard a loud "CRACK!" When he arrived at the room, it was completely empty save for the furniture and furnishings that belonged there.

Draco stoked and tended the fire at 1001 Lakeside Drive, Unit 1554. As he was readying to place a large log on the fire, he heard a great, booming "CRACK" behind him. As he was no longer used to the use of magic, the sound of wizards apparating or disapparating was highly unexpected and unfamiliar. Draco jumped, dropping the heavy log on the hearth, where it rolled off, and dropped six inches onto his right foot.

"Oh, you stupid bloody gits! Don't you ever do that to me again!" Draco gave a small whine as he sat on the hearth, grasping his foot.

"Sorry," Hermione said, stifling a small giggle. She took out her wand, pointed at Draco's great toe and said, "Repairo." Draco's pain disappeared as quickly as it had come on. "Oh, so the repair charm does work on broken bones! Never tried that one before. Glad it did work. Couldv'e been disastrous if it didn't, eh?" Hermione smiled. She looked around the apartment. She saw next to the fireplace a small pot of floo powder. "We on the network, then, Draco?"

"Well, we wouldn't be here if it wasn't. Would we, Granger?" Hermione shrugged. She could have sworn for a moment that he sounded more and more like the Draco she knew - and loathed - at school. Deep inside, she was rather glad the old Draco seemed to be coming back. "We're going to my cousin's flat in New York by floo powder, and then we're catching the QE2¼ back home to England."

Harry was puzzled. He had heard of the QE2 - the great vessel that made stops all over the world, including New York and Southampton, but, "the QE2 and what? One-quarter? Never heard of it."

"Of course you haven't, Potter! It's not easy to get on that ship. You need to be connected. Luckily, I still have my lifetime membership in their Sailing the Seas club. I got us passage right away. Soon as we get there."

Ron felt slightly disappointed. Like Harry, he wanted to get home to his own family. "We're travelling by ship? How long is that going to take, weeks?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "Could take minutes if you want it that way." He sighed. "When you take the QE2¼, you can choose the length of your cruise. If you're in a hurry, you can take the Super Sonic Speed package, which includes no amenities whatsoever, and gets you from New York to Southampton in about 17 ½ minutes. Otherwise, you can take a more leisurely route, going anywhere from a day, to a week, even up to a year if you take the Snail Slow Speed package and make all the stops."

Draco looked at Harry and Ron, both of whom continued to appear mystified. "Don't worry, Potter, I signed us up for the four-day cruise. Any faster and we'd miss any enjoyment in the ship! Plus, last time I took the Super Sonic Speed trip I suffered a nasty windburn for three days afterwards."

As with the hotel, Harry thought about money, screwing up his face to the thought of the cost of four more nights' luxury lodging and food. Draco seemed to read Harry's mind. "Don't worry," he said in a low drawl, "this one's on old mum and dad. I got the hotel tab, too." Seeing the beginnings of an indignant protest form on Harry's lips, Draco smiled wickedly. "I've got to blow all of that dirty Malfoy money somehow, now don't I? May as well be on my - friends - eh, Potter?"

Chapter Ten - The Queen Elizabeth 2 ¼

As dirty and dusty as it was, Harry loved travelling by floo powder. Mainly, he enjoyed whizzing through fireplaces and chimneys, feeling the warm flames tickle at him with each fireplace he passed. Most of all, this time, traveling by floo powder meant that he was one step closer to getting home to his parents' old home in Godric's Hollow, and to beginning his life with Hermione.

After Ron, Draco, and Hermione had departed, Harry scraped the last bit of floo powder from the bottom of the urn on top of the mantle, and stepped into the fireplace. He threw the floo powder down with a long stroke, and shouted "Malfoys' New York!" very clearly. He saw a flash of bright green flame, and felt the welcoming warmth of the floo network. Seconds later, after much spinning and tumbling, he landed square on his feet, on solid ground. He looked around and saw an expansive drawing room. "Pretty large for a flat," Harry thought.

Hermione and Draco were there to meet him. Draco pulled Harry's suitcase out of the immense hearth, and Hermione began sweeping at Harry's robes until she was satisfied they were dust-free. The flat was essentially empty, save for a few scattered pieces of furniture covered with white dust drapes. "The family hasn't lived here for years," Draco explained. "It was my cousin's house, but she's since lived full-time in Florida." He mused for a moment. "Couldn't stand her, honestly. I think of her every time there's a hurricane down there. She had a temper like one and it wouldn't surprise me if the sudden rash of storms was due to her little outbursts." Harry couldn't help but laugh.

"Well," said Draco. "Let's head down to the QE2 ¼. The sooner we get on board, the sooner we can go home."

The four walked the short distance from the Malfoy flat to the ship. Surprisingly, the pier where the ship was docked was a rather run down, rickety set up, inhabited by all sorts of ruddy, intouchable types. Hermione felt a shiver down her spine as she literally had to step over a drunken woman laying on the boardwalk. She was even more stunned when Draco pointed out the ship. To Hermione, the illustrious QE2 ¼ was no more than a garbage scow, flat, snub-nosed, and rather smelly.

"Draco, are you sure this is it?" Hermione asked. "I mean, I thought this was a luxury liner! This looks more like a dung heap than a cruise ship!"

"Just trust me." Ron shot Draco a sarcastic look. "Ok, ok, just wait until we walk up the gangplank. You'll see it when we get closer. It has a Muggle-repelling charm on it. Worst we get sometimes is kids sneaking up on it but there is heavy security for that - and a resident memory modifier on staff. Just follow me, ok?"

Draco leading the way, the four struggled up the gangplank with their bags in tow. The closer they got to the top of the ramp, however, the more the actual ship came into view. By the time they were on board, they were standing on an immense vessel. It was navy blue, cherry red, and blinding white with gleaming, sparkling chrome accents. Harry could see the double stacks belching out a particolored smoke, and giving a faint, "toot" with each belch.

The main deck was a glittering, gold atrium with all manner of plants and hanging decorations. Candles floated in mid air, and shimmering, enchanted songbirds flew around the ceiling. Everywhere Harry looked, he saw incredible opulence, sparkling gold, and pure, unadulterated decadence. The center of the atrium held a large, highly-polished fountain shaped like a rearing centaur, water flowing out of the tip of its drawn arrow. Harry could hear the faint tinkling of water as it hit the vivid blue swimming pool below.

"Wow." Ron was flabbergated as well. "Wow, this is amazing!" As Ron's jaw dropped, the four were greeted by a comely witch in nautical-looking, tight-fitting, and barely-there robes. Ron's jaw gaped further as he surveyed the witch's blatant beauty in her skimpy, gold-laden uniform

"Mr. Malfoy and party, I presume?" She asked, checking a clipboard. Before they could answer, the witch continued. "Your staterooms are on the seventh deck, and you share a drawing room lounge. You have about three hours before dinner in the main dining room tonight. Please, follow me."

Three hours later, the four arrived together at the dining room. Although they did not bring any formal attire, surprisingly, there were tuxedos for the men and an opulent, tight-fitting evening gown for Hermione provided in the staterooms.

To Hermione's surprise, the suite also came with its own house elf who specialized in cosmetology and hairstyling. To go with her glittering, bright-red sheath, Hermione was given striking, glowing makeup and an elegant, upsweeping style to her otherwise unkempt mop of brown curls.

Harry thought Hermione looked amazing, and could not stop telling her so. Even more amazing to Harry was the effect on Hermione's form of the dress' plunging neckline and plunging back - but, that comment he kept well to himself. During the walk from the stateroom to the dining room, Harry could not take his eyes off Hermione. He felt as if he had just noticed Hermione's beauty again for the first time, and fell in love with her all over again.

Dinner proved as elegant and extravagant as the ship suggested. Their meal consisted of at least seven courses, each of them more delicious than the other. After Harry finished his last bite of crème brulee, he loosened his tie slightly, and sat back in his chair. He had not felt so satisfied in at least a fortnight, and for once, he was beginning to forget the horrible events of the past few weeks. Harry was snapped back to reality thanks to the turn in Draco and Ron's conversation.

"Ron," said Draco. "Harry and I have been asked to help the Muggle law enforcement to put a stop to the terrorist activities Voldemort's been shoring up. The American agent's asked me to go back to my old life - back to being a wizard - and back to maintaining the Malfoy family's legacy, if you know what I mean."

Ron bristled and shifted in his chair, not quite sure what Malfoy was about to ask of him, although he knew it was going to be something difficult.

"Ron, in order to get to the bottom of what's going on, Harry's told me the Muggles and the Aurors need someone on the inside - a spy, so to speak. Since Severus Snape was killed a few years ago, there's been no one. I've been out of the community for so long, that Voldemort will never know that I'm not really a Death Eater like my..." Draco shuddered, "parents were."

Ron did not like what he was hearing. "You know, Malfoy, Snape was killed for doing just what you're saying you're gonna do. Voldemort has ways of finding these things out - of getting information out of people and stuff. You don't know occlumency! You can't hide your thoughts from you-know-who! Malfoy, you know you can't just go in there all willy nilly, say, 'hi, ho I'm back' and expect to survive! You're a real nutter if you think you can!"

Draco took a deep sigh. Hermione and Harry fell quiet, their eyes darting between Ron and Draco as if they were watching a tennis match. "That's why I need to ask you to be my secret keeper, Ron." Draco's eyes fell. "I need you to be the one to hold that secret - no one else will know unless you tell them. Even Harry and Hermione will forget it unless you tell them on practically a daily basis."

Ron's mouth hung open. "Why me?"

"Because -- and no offense to Harry and Hermione -- you're the most trustworthy one of all of us, and you're also the one who's the farthest removed from all of it. There's no way you will have to get close enough to Voldemort for him to try and torture it out of you - and we will make sure of that." Draco leaned forward on the table toward Ron. "Will you do it, Weasley? Will you be my secret keeper?

Ron did not need any time to think on it. He knew Draco was right, that his role in the actual sting operation would be minimal. If he was going to do anything to serve in the fight against Voldemort, this was going to be it. "Yes," Ron said resolutely.

"It's settled then. After dinner, we do the Fidelius charm and seal this up before we get back to England." Draco gave a curt nod, picked up his fork, and finished off the last bite of his treacle tart. Despite Draco's brave exterior, Harry knew that his insides must be all mushy, as if someone had just used the jelly-legs jinx on his middle.

After dinner, the four retired to a large drawing room connecting to all three of their state rooms. Harry thought it was quite like the Gryffindor House Common Room at Hogwarts, where the boys' and girls' Gryffindor dormitories met and combined for meetings, study, or social time.

Harry and Hermione sat in the nighttime sea air on a large, open balcony, gazing at the stars, sipping champagne, and gazing into each other's eyes. They had left the room for two reasons. First, they wanted - needed - deserved some time alone. Second, Ron and Draco required strict privacy for the Fidelius charm to work properly.

Ron and Draco sat opposite each other in two overlarge armchairs. Draco leaned forward, and took out Harry's wand, which he borrowed for the occasion. First thing when they got to England, Draco thought, he would head to Ollivander's Wand Shop and purchase a new one to replace the one he'd purposefully broken years ago.

Ron leaned in as well so that his head and Draco's head were nearly touching. Draco tapped the wand three times on Ron's ear, and said, "Fidelius." Ron felt a slight buzzing in his ear. When the noise subsided, Draco whispered his secret in Ron's ear. Draco repeated the procedure, tapping Ron's ear and again whispering "Fidelius." The two men leaned back in their chairs, certain that they had performed the spell correctly.

Draco smiled, stood up out of his chair, and held up his index finger to Ron as if to say, "watch this now." To test the spell, Draco strode out to the balcony and spoke to Harry. "Potter, what is it I'm supposed to do when we get back to England?"

Harry gave Draco a sarcastic grin. "Well, Malfoy, if you ask me, you are to take a long walk off a short plank, dunk your sorry self into the drink forever, and sod off." Harry's green eyes twinkled with slight dislike. Hermione looked torn between a fit of giggles and a disapproving glare at Harry's behavior.

Draco, satisfied, turned on his heels and returned to Ron, who was rapt in a fit of laughter. "Sterling, mate." Draco whispered. "Task on target."