Immortalitas Aestas

Harry surveyed the empty shelf in front of him with dismay.

He'd been in the small potions storeroom for nearly an hour, and he'd only managed to tidy up one shelf.

This was going to take forever.

Harry lowered himself carefully to the floor and placed the dirty rag on top of a bottle labeled "Daisy Roots", which was, of course, sitting on the shelf labeled "A".

Looking down at the ingredients next to him, Harry began to rather tedious task of sorting the containers by their first letter. Even though he'd started with the "M" shelf, only three of the jars and bottles situated on it actually belonged there. Harry couldn't help but wonder if Snape had purposely rearranged the cupboard just to give him more work. He definitely wouldn't have put it past the moody Potion's Master.

Carefully, he gathered up the appropriate ingredients and stood, placing them on the "M" shelf. He then turned his attention to the "N" shelf, promptly pulling off a jar of Billywig Stings.

"You've got to be kidding me," he muttered, wiping off the container and setting it gently on the ground next to the blue bottle of Essence of Belladonna.

It was still warm in the room, even with the slight breeze brought about by the cooling charm, and Harry's glasses kept sliding down his nose. He was covered in dust and dirt and had, a few times, broken out into coughing fits.

Harry was almost positive that it had not been this dusty last week when they'd been in here to get ingredients for their potions. But, then again, he hadn't really been paying that much attention.

He finished clearing off the shelf, placing the jars and bottles either on the appropriate clean shelf (of which there were only two) or on the floor, and glared at the rag in his hand. It was now too dirty to continue using, which meant he was going to have to ask Snape for another.

"Bollocks," he muttered, using his other hand to push back his hair. He carefully stepped around the groups of ingredients and stuck his head out the door.

"Professor?" he asked cautiously, one hand gripping the doorframe tightly. He really hated talking to Snape.

"Potter," Snape replied without looking up. He was still grading essays, red ink visible on the end of his quill.

"Erm, sorry to bother you...." Harry tried again after a moment, as Snape had yet to even look up. "But I need a new rag."

Snape finally looked up, seemingly almost amazed to see Harry standing there. "What?" he asked sharply.

"I need a new rag," Harry said, teeth clenched tightly.

Snape waved dismissively over his shoulder. "Second drawer from the right."

Harry sighed, rolled his eyes, and released his grip on the doorframe. He dropped the dirty rag on the countertop and opened the drawer. There were six rags in it, so he took all of them. Hopefully it would be enough.

Harry glanced at Snape, who was once again immersed in the essays. The one he was reading was already covered with red; Harry fervently hoped it wasn't his. He didn't think his Potions grade could handle another low mark on an essay.

He stepped back into the storeroom, pausing in the doorway to let his eyes adjust. It was rather dark in the cupboard, as Harry hadn't bothered with any lights.

"Lumos," he muttered, and the torches on the walls flared to life. He viewed the mess he'd made with a slight smile. It really was quite a sight and made Harry feel marginally better.

Harry stepped over his pile of "A" ingredients, and settled down on his knees. He meticulously wiped and cleaned and dusted off every single bottle, jar, and shelf in the closet. The dust was very thick in the air; Harry could see it drifting in the light from the torches. He figured he'd sneezed and coughed more in this short time period than he had in his entire life.

Shoving his hair off his forehead with one hand, Harry used the other to pull himself to his feet. He was completely covered in dust and could barely see through his glasses. Wiping his hands on the back of his shorts, he bent down and began placing the ingredients piled on the floor onto their appropriate shelves.

He started humming softly to himself, then stopped, rather aghast to realize he'd been humming Weasley is Our King. The tune had become a favorite of Gryffindor House ever since fifth year, when Ron's great Quidditch playing had led to the retention of the Quidditch Cup. The song had actually been changed a bit along the way as well, becoming everything from Potter is Our Hero to Hermione is Head Girl.

Harry, however, preferred it in its original form, where his name was not mentioned at all. To this day he was still rather impressed with the fact that Draco had written it.

Draco.

Harry closed his eyes and rested his forehead against the "S" shelf, a green jar of Shrivelfig clenched tightly in his hand.

Draco had now been gone for about three hours, Harry noted after a glance at his watch. The fear he'd so valiantly kept at bay since Draco had Apparated away from Hogwarts came roaring back, and Harry swallowed heavily.

If he were to be honest with himself, Harry would admit that even though he knew Draco was a powerful wizard and could cast the spells needed to get into the Manor, he was still absolutely terrified. There was no guarantee that Draco would be safe. There was no guarantee that Lucius wouldn't show up and catch his son taking the book. There was no guarantee that any of the potential problems that could happen wouldn't happen.

There was no guarantee that Draco would ever make it back to Hogwarts.

Angry with himself for thinking this way, Harry slammed his fist down on the shelf, rattling the ingredients sitting on it. The noise startled him back into his surroundings, as did the sound of Snape saying, "Potter," in a rather threatening tone.

No, thought Harry to himself, shoving his hair back again. This won't do at all.

He pushed all thoughts of Draco to the back of his mind, setting the jar of Shrivelfig on the shelf with concentrated gentleness. He would simply finish cleaning up the cupboard then take his leave of Snape. Maybe he'd even go flying. Now that the sun was down the temperature was moderately cooler, after all.

His mind wandered again while he was in the middle of setting the jar of Snake Fangs on the shelf. The container didn't actually make contact with the shelf at all, instead falling rapidly towards the floor. Harry, Seeker reflexes kicking in, grabbed it just in time, preventing the shattering of glass and Snape's wrath.

"Think, Harry," he muttered quietly to himself, setting the jar down a little harder than necessary. It was getting warmer in the storeroom by the minute, at least in Harry's mind, and he wanted to be free of it immediately.

One by one the ingredients left the floor, taking their places on the clean shelves. "Armadillo Bile, 'A', Boomslang Skin, 'B'," Harry recited softly. The process continued on and on until the floor was empty, and Harry breathed a sigh of relief.

"Thank God," he whispered, letting his eyes fall shut momentarily. He stooped down again to gather all his rags, sneezing as the movement raised more dust in the air, and took one last look around the storeroom. Hopefully he wouldn't ever have to clean it again.

"Nox," he said quietly, extinguishing the torches, and left the room, closing the door behind him softly.

Snape was still at his desk, but the essays he had been grading were obviously finished, as they were laying in neat piles on the tabletop. There was a large black cauldron in the center of the desk; Harry could hear the liquid inside it bubbling.

"Potter," Snape intoned, carefully measuring out a red liquid and adding it to the mixture in the cauldron. "Are you finished?"

"Yes, sir," Harry replied, walking over to the cabinets along the front of the room, picking up the rag he'd set down earlier. "What should I do with these?"

Snape didn't respond for a moment, simply staring at Harry without blinking. Harry felt himself grow nervous and resisted the urge to shuffle his feet.

"Just leave them on the table nearest the door," Snape finally said, picking up the wooden spoon to his right and stirring his concoction twice. "But before you go, I need you to bring me the jar of Ginger Root and a bottle of Armadillo Bile." Harry didn't move. "Now," Snape added sharply.

Harry jumped slightly at the tone, turned quickly and walked into the storeroom. After a quickly muttered, "Lumos," he perused the newly-cleaned shelves, finding the ingredients easily. He wasn't sure why Snape couldn't have gotten the ingredients himself, but kept that opinion to himself, instead muttering, "Nox," to extinguish the light and closing the door behind himself again. He placed the ingredients on Snape's desk carefully.

"May I go now, Sir?" he asked politely, keeping his eyes trained on the black surface of the desk in front of him.

He felt the Potions professor's eyes on him and waited for his answer, afraid for a moment that Snape was going to give him more work.

"You may leave, Potter," Snape said after a moment. "But report to the Headmaster's office. He apparently has something he needs to speak with you about."

The last sentence was said with a bit of distaste, but Harry ignored it, instead nodding his head. He turned quickly and moved through the classroom, dropping the dirty rags on the correct table. He opened the door quietly, looking back once more at Snape who was once again stirring his potion and left, shutting the door gently behind him.

He moved through the hallways, which were completely empty, as curfew had begun an hour before, idly wondering what Dumbledore wanted.

He hoped that whatever it was, it was good.

***

Draco took a deep breath, trying to even out his heartbeat. Lucius' voice never ceased to cause a reaction in him, and that initial reaction was usually one of fear.

"Hello, Father," he said carefully, keeping his eyes locked on those of Lucius as he took another careful step into the library.

"I knew you'd come back here sooner or later," Lucius sneered, grey eyes hard.

"Oh, you did, did you?" Draco asked nonchalantly, casually lifting a hand to examine his fingernails.

"Yes," Lucius said, voice full of arrogance.

"Hmm," Draco replied, dropping his hand to his side. "Well then I'm sure you also know I'm not intending to stay."

Lucius didn't say anything to this, and Draco allowed a small smirk to appear on his face. "And," he added smugly, "I don't think you are in any position to make me."

His father frowned at this, but again didn't say anything. Draco crossed the room and stopped in front of a glass display case.

"Ah," Lucius said finally. "You are here to steal my book."

"Ah," Draco imitated perfectly. "You would be correct."

"I'm assuming Dumbledore told you about that book," Lucius said. "After all," he drawled, "it's not like you would have remembered it."

"No, of course not," Draco snapped, sarcasm dripping from every word. "Because we all know how stupid I am."

His father smirked. "You are not stupid, Draco. You are a Malfoy after all." Draco rolled his eyes at this, turning his attention back to the glass case in front of him. "You are simply using your intelligence for the wrong side," Lucius added.

"Oh, give it a rest," Draco muttered, running his fingers lightly over the glass. There had to be a way to get to the book.

His father was now listing off all of the wondrous benefits of being involved with the Dark Lord. Amazingly enough, they seemed to revolve around killing, maiming and death, with the occasional, "He's very powerful, Draco."

"Hmm, I'm sure it's all very nice," Draco replied evenly, squinting slightly at the glass case. "But, you see Father, I could never join the Death Eaters. Because, well, you seem to be awfully focused on killing Harry Potter, and, well, my thoughts tend to revolve around doing very different sorts of things to him."

Lucius blinked. "What things?"

"Oh, use your imagination," Draco snapped. "I know you've got a good one."

His father's eyes widened, and Draco smiled.

"You ... you and Potter?" His father sounded outraged and impressed all at once, and Draco coughed to hide his laughter.

"Yes, Father," he replied after a moment. "Me and Potter."

Draco ignored his father's following tirade with a smile on his face. He dropped to his knees, running his fingers along the wooden base of the display case. He resisted the urge to whistle, albeit just barely.

His fingers finally caught on a hidden panel, and Draco pushed, breath catching momentarily in his throat. The glass case opened and he let a small "Finally," escape.

He stood again, dusting off the knees of his trousers, and carefully picked up the book that was displayed proudly on green velvet. The tome was rather heavy, with a leather-bound cover. It was obviously very old. The pages were edged in gold, and the title, Caligo Devotio, was written in scripted lettering across the front.

"Well, Father," Draco said, turning to face Lucius. "I've got what I came for, so I'll be taking my leave of you now."

"You can't just do that Draco," Lucius said, voice turning dark in an instant. The tone sent a shiver down Draco's spine but he straightened his shoulders and tucked the book closer to his chest.

"Actually," Draco replied, moving towards the door, "I can. Because, as I mentioned before, you aren't in any position to stop me."

Draco paused and looked once more at his father. Lucius was dressed all in black; his black velvet robes fell majestically from his shoulders, held together with an intricate silver clasp. His hair was pulled back in its characteristic ponytail, no doubt secured with that silly black ribbon. But perhaps the most important part of Lucius' appearance was this: he was currently being quite nicely displayed in an ornate silver frame.

Lucius frowned once more, no doubt at the insolence his only child was showing him. Draco bit his tongue to keep his laughter inside. This was almost too easy.

"So, as I said, I'm taking leave of this place. Goodbye, Father. Hang in there. I'm sure all will be as it should in the end." Draco reached for Harry's Invisibility Cloak that he'd dropped on the floor in his surprise at seeing his Father, and threw it over his head. He tucked the book under one arm and opened the door with the other, then retrieved his wand and set out on his way. The sooner he was out of the Manor, the better he would feel.

He walked slowly down the hallway, stopping to go back through the door into the dusty room. He pulled off the cloak once the door had shut behind him, after a cursory look around the room to ensure he was alone. He didn't want to accidentally run into anyone else, portrait or no.

Draping the cloak across his free arm, Draco hoisted the book up, as it was already getting quite heavy, and set out across the room. He continued down the many stairs, stopping again just before the door that would take him outside onto the Manor grounds.

Drawing a deep breath he pulled the cloak back over his head. He was going to have to walk back across the grounds in his human form, as it would be impossible to carry the book in his Animagus form, which would have admittedly been safer.

Draco slowly opened the door into the gardens and stepped out, the smell of the flowers once again assaulting his senses and becoming almost instantly overwhelming. He moved through the gardens fairly quickly, giving a mock invisible salute to Louis, who had once again failed to keep him inside the Manor.

He got out of the gardens and breathed a small sigh of relief, even though his journey was far from over. He continued across the grass, which was slightly damp from the rain that had apparently fallen while he'd been inside. The temperature was cool here, although not as cool as it should have been for February, but Draco decided this was most likely due to the temperature control Lucius kept on the grounds, which had been temporarily disabled in order for Draco to enter in the first place.

He came to the small pond, which had seemed so large in his Animagus form, and made his way along the edge of the water. Looking down at where his reflection should have been, Draco decided that it was odd not to see himself in the water, even though he knew he was there. Using his wand hand to push the book back up into place, as it was sliding down his body, the soon-to-be-disinherited Malfoy heir continued walking, quickening his pace a bit to try to get himself off the grounds sooner.

He climbed slowly up a hill and saw the Manor fence in front of him. The small opening was still present, which was another relief, as he wasn't really looking forward to having to recast all of the spells. The Pepper-Up potion was nearly out of his system, and Draco was tiring quickly.

Draco dropped to his knees in front of the gap and took off the Invisibility Cloak, shrinking it to fit in his pocket. He pushed the book through the opening, where it hit the ground with a soft thump, then tucked his wand away and transformed once again into a silver fox, jumping easily through the hole.

Once he was through he immediately returned to his normal form, pulling out his wand again. He cast the Finite Incantatem spell, and the fencing glowed purple, indicating that all the spells were once again operating. He stooped down to pick up the book, tucking it under his arm. The winter wind whipped his cloak around him as he set off down the hill at a very fast pace. He wanted to get away from Malfoy Manor and he wanted to get away now.

Draco continued down one hill, then another, until he was finally able to make out the form of a large shaggy dog in the distance, and had to keep himself from calling out to Sirius.

Draco finally reached Sirius, giving him a pat on the head and dropping to the ground. "Hello, Padfoot," he said softly, taking another deep breath. "Do you think we could just rest here for a minute?"

Padfoot inclined his head, as if in thought, then gave it a rough shake, bending his head down to nip lightly at Draco's fingers.

"Ow, okay, okay, I'm getting up," Draco complained, looking mournfully at his hand. "You didn't have to bite me."

Sirius gave a light bark, and turned away from him, indicating that they should get moving. Draco pushed himself to his feet, once again hoisting the book under his arm. He would be glad when he could get rid of the stupid thing and hoped he'd never have to see it again.

Following the dog over a few more hills, he looked down at his feet briefly, only to look back up and into the grey eyes of Sirius Black.

"Hey," Draco said in surprise, his heart once again taking up momentary residence in his throat. "Don't do that."

Sirius smiled at him. "Did everything go okay?"

"Yes," Draco replied, transferring the book into Sirius' hands. "I thought for a moment that my father had caught me, but then realized that I was actually looking at his portrait. Bloody things. I wish they weren't so lifelike."

Sirius laughed, and clapped Draco roughly on the back. "Let's get back to Hogwarts, shall we? I think Harry will no doubt be waiting impatiently."

Draco looked up at that, but kept his expression calm. Sirius was regarding him just as serenely, which made Draco wonder just how much the older man knew.

"I'm sure he will," Draco finally said.

Sirius nodded. "Then let's go. On three. One. Two. Three." And with that, they disappeared with a pop, leaving Malfoy Manor behind.