Soul Splitting

Chapter 2: It's a Nice Day For a White Wedding

"Who the bloody hell's knocking?" Harry heard Uncle Vernon ask in an irritated manner to no one in particular. "Can't they see we have a doorbell? Knocking... it's barbaric... Just had the door painted..." Harry snorted a laugh. Knocking barbaric? Uncle Vernon was certainly setting high expectations for the human race. He heard the front door open. "I don't care what you're selling; I'm not interested - Ouch! What're you - get out of my house!" Uncle Vernon shouted.

The caller ignored Mr. Dursley's demands and Harry heard an all-too-familiar voice shout, "Potter! Potter! Come out here - I have to talk to you!" Harry stood up and bolted out of his room and down the stairs. As he reached the foyer, he pulled his wand from his front pocket and pointed it at Draco Malfoy.

"What the hell are you doing here and what do you want?" Harry demanded.

Malfoy stole a disgusted look at Uncle Vernon and asked, "Could we please adjourn to your private quarters? What we have to discuss is between the two of us alone."

"Now, you wait right here. Who do you think you are, barging into my house unannounced and demanding to be taken upstairs?" interjected Uncle Vernon.

Without a pause, Malfoy drew his wand and pointed it at Uncle Vernon. "Listen, you filthy Muggle, if you think for one minute that I have to answer to you, then you are dead wrong. I have come here to speak to Potter and I have no intention of allowing the likes of you to stand in my way."

Although Harry now knew that this was an empty threat, as Draco Malfoy had proved himself to be incapable of murder mere days before, he couldn't say he blamed Malfoy for threatening Uncle Vernon - the man practically begged to be hexed every time he came in contact with wizards. Harry, wand still pointed at Malfoy, allowed himself a brief moment to drink in the look on Uncle Vernon's face - which somehow read as contemptuous, frightened, and haughty all at once - before he remembered himself and said, "Right, Malfoy, since I know you're not up to killing me and I'd rather not get a warning from the Ministry if I don't have to, I'll give you five seconds to put down your wand." Malfoy looked away from Uncle Vernon and obediently stowed his wand away in his jacket, then lifted up his empty hands to show Harry he was unarmed. "Good," said Harry keeping his own wand raised, "I'll give you ten minutes, but not in front of the Muggle. C'mon, we can go to my room."

Harry stood aside to let Malfoy up the stairs ahead of him. He pointed out his door to Malfoy and the two entered. Closing the door behind him, Harry said, "Well?"

Malfoy looked around the room, the hint of a sneer playing on his lips. Inwardly, Harry dared him to say something about his tiny Muggle bedroom. If Malfoy had come here only to insult him, Harry would put a body-bind curse on him without thinking twice and hand him right over to the Order. In fact the only reason he had not done so already was that the last time he had seen Malfoy, there had been a flicker of something on his face that looked like fear at the idea of returning to Lord Voldemort. Not to mention that Harry could not forget it had not been Malfoy who had uttered the Killing Curse - it had been Snape, and there was a very good chance Malfoy knew where to find the greasy ex-Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.

Harry looked pointedly at Malfoy, who was eyeing a stain on the carpet. He repeated himself. "Well?"

Malfoy looked up at Harry and then at his own hands. "I won't beg, Potter."

"What?" said Harry. "What do you mean? What are you talking about?"

Malfoy sighed in annoyance. "You know perfectly well what I mean. I know you were there - on the Astronomy Tower. I saw the other broom, and I saw you come after Snape and me when we ran. It doesn't take a genius to figure it out, Potter. You were under that cloak of yours and you heard everything Dumbledore and I said. So allow me to repeat myself: I won't beg."

Harry was taken aback. But, he supposed, if McGonagall had deduced that Harry had been there, it wasn't so farfetched that Malfoy could have done the same. "So what? I still don't understand what you want or why you've come to me for it."

Malfoy continued to look at his hands and began to pick at his cuticles. "I've come to you because you were the only one who heard what he and I talked about before Snape killed him."

Harry, who had tried so hard over the past year to always keep from losing his temper, could not help but explode at this. "'Before Snape killed him'? You may not have said the words, Malfoy, but - but YOU KILLED DUMBLEDORE EVERY BIT AS MUCH AS SNAPE DID, AND YOU KNOW IT!"

But Malfoy plowed onwards, more loudly than before to ensure he was still heard if Harry began to yell again, and with a pained expression on his face, giving no indication that he had heard a word Harry had said. "And so you see, if you heard everything we said, then you must have deduced with those wonderful powers of deduction that only you possess, Potter, that before we were so rudely interrupted, I was having second thoughts about whether I really ought to follow through with what I had been sent to do."

Harry thought he was starting to catch on to where Malfoy was going with this, but he wasn't about to let Malfoy just waltz in, thinking he could negotiate some sort of surrender. "So what? Now you've come to me to beg for my forgiveness? You want me to save you from Voldemort?"

Malfoy flinched at the name and continued. "No. Not exactly. Like I said, I won't beg, nor do I expect, or want, forgiveness. And I won't try to pretend I have some great, noble reason for coming here either. I simply discovered that murder doesn't really suit me; I'm not disposed to it. And as that is really the number one qualification for being a Death Eater, The Dark Lord isn't too pleased with me. I'm not saying that I repent or that I'm going to become a good little Gryffindor and go out and risk my neck fighting evil - in fact, I'm doing the most Slytherin thing I can think of and saving my own skin. If I had gone back to him, he would've killed me."

"So you're expecting me to keep him from doing that? You think I don't have more important things to do than protect you from Voldemort?"

Malfoy flinched again and finally looked up to meet Harry's eyes. "I didn't say that. I don't need you to be my personal bodyguard, Potter; I can take care of myself. But without someone else on my side, there's only so long I can run until he or someone else catches me."

"And why shouldn't I just let him catch you?" said Harry, prodding Malfoy in the chest with his wand. "Isn't that what you deserve?"

"Because the person you thought was your spy, your man on the inside, hasn't been feeding your Order real information on The Dark Lord's goings on for months and you are all disgustingly out of date on what he's doing. I may not know much, but I know more than your lot does. I'm not willing to risk my life playing spy for you - he wouldn't believe me, anyway - but I'll tell you the little bit I know. Not just about him, but Snape as well. Oh yes, Potter - I know you care every bit as much about doing Snape in as you do The Dark Lord. And that's the one area in which I am willing to actually help you fight. You see I have business to settle with Professor Snape as well." Malfoy paused to examine the look on Harry's face, which was starting to become contemplative. "Plus," he continued, softly, "I don't think Dumbledore would have wanted you to turn away someone who was willing to renounce the Dark Lord. Dumbledore was always preaching about seeing the best in people after all, even to the last, wasn't he?"

"Don't you dare talk about Dumbledore like you knew him!" Harry snapped, his need to yell full-out having dissipated some. Harry hated to admit it, but he knew Malfoy was right. Breathing hard and trying to keep his temper in check, he asked, "So, why not just go to the Ministry? Why come to me? I still don't understand."

"Potter, you are so slow. I can't go to the Ministry because in their eyes I have committed a crime by allowing Death Eaters entrance into the school, even if I didn't murder anybody. I assume someone has, since last week, informed them of all my goings-on, at least those they know of. If I go to the Ministry for protection, they'll just ask me for names and then, if I comply, give me a slightly more lenient sentence than they would have otherwise."

"Well, then, that's what you should do. You should go to Azkaban. You can have a cell right next to your disgusting father."

Malfoy's nostrils flared and Harry could tell he was trying very hard not to hit back with a jab at Lily or James Potter, but he was smart enough to know that this would get him nowhere with Harry. Finally he spoke. "First, the names I know are limited. As such a young and new member, the Dark Lord only exposed me to people he had to. This was so that if I was found out, I couldn't give names to the Ministry, and also so that if anyone else were captured, they wouldn't be able to tell the Ministry anything about the plan. Secondly, just by speaking to you I am a traitor to the Dark Lord, not to mention failing to do his bidding and not returning to him for punishment after the fact. If I go to Azkaban, I have very little chance of surviving my first week. My father isn't the only Death Eater still loyal to the Dark Lord in Azkaban, and he alone wouldn't be able to protect me from the others. Most of them who are still in there are the ones who failed to get the Prophecy from the Department of Mysteries last year and they'd love to get their hands on me to try and get back on the Dark Lord's good side. He' just been letting them rot there as punishment for their failure after all."

Quite suddenly, Harry fully understood the gravity of Malfoy's situation. If Voldemort found him, Malfoy would be killed. If the Ministry found him, chances were Malfoy would still be killed. Coming to Harry was a last act of desperation to save his own life, though Harry still wasn't sure how he could go about doing that. "So what exactly do you want me to do for you? You said you don't want a bodyguard. What do you want, then?"

Malfoy looked at Harry and said, "I need somewhere I can be safe and not always be worrying that Death Eaters or Aurors are suddenly going to swarm in and kill or arrest me. And an ally. Not a friend, but I need someone who believes I don't want to work for the Dark Lord. I need at least one person who doesn't want me dead. You don't have to like me - I certainly don't like you - but I have to know there's somebody who doesn't intend to kill me or send me to my certain death. And someone to help me get Snape. Haven't you ever heard the saying 'My enemy's enemy is my friend'?"

Harry could feel his defenses wearing down. Malfoy was being very convincing, and as much as Harry hated him, Harry didn't want Malfoy to die. "But how do I know I can actually trust you? How do I know you won't double cross me just the way Snape did?"

Malfoy shrugged. "You can't know, not for sure."

Harry looked into Malfoy's eyes, trying to read something, anything, that might give away some sign that Malfoy was lying - that he was trying to trap Harry. But Malfoy's stare was inscrutable, and Harry knew if he were to do this, it would mean a huge leap of faith. If only he could do Legilimency. Well, Harry thought, although he hated to admit it, if Malfoy had any information, it would be worth hearing what he had to say. And as far as Malfoy double-crossing him, it wasn't as though he had come here spouting some sappy story of regret for his crimes the way Snape had done to Dumbledore. Harry had to be honest with himself - everything Malfoy was saying seemed very much like him. And of course, though Harry would not tell Malfoy he thought so, Malfoy was right about Dumbledore - he would have wanted Malfoy on their side. Dumbledore would have done anything for someone who wanted to leave the Death Eaters, even after Snape's betrayal. Harry wasn't sure if he could go so far as promising to do anything to help Malfoy; he certainly didn't have time to try and make a defense to clear Malfoy's name as Dumbledore would have tried to do, but when Harry weighed his options, it really did seem like having Malfoy on his side, and away from Voldemort, would be a good idea - strategically speaking. Perhaps, Harry supposed, he could at least attempt to find Malfoy someplace safe to hide.

"Fine," said Harry. "Fine, I'll try and help you."

"Really?" Malfoy asked, for a brief moment allowing himself to show excitement and relief. "I, er... thank you, Potter. You won't regret it."

"You'd better hope I don't, because if I do, then I promise you, you will be in Azkaban before you can say Gobstone."

Malfoy's mouth curled slightly at one edge to form an almost undetectable smile and held out his hand. Harry stared at it for a few seconds and then, taking a deep breath, shook it and hoped he had not just made a mammoth mistake.

* * * * *

Later that evening, Draco was doing one of the last things he would have ever imagined he would do - sitting on the floor of Harry Potter's Muggle bedroom eating the Muggle food Potter had nicked from his aunt's kitchen (some cold chicken and leftover macaroni salad). It wasn't really what Draco was used to, but now that the fear of certain and fast-approaching death had been lifted, he had realized he was quite hungry and found the food perfectly acceptable. As he finished sucking all the meat off of the last chicken leg, Draco noticed Potter staring at him.

"What?" Draco asked, swallowing the last bit.

"It's just, well, why are you wearing a green tweed suit?"

"Because I had to look like a Muggle."

"Well, you may be wearing Muggle clothes, but Muggle teenagers rarely wear tweed suits."

"It was the best I could do, Potter. My options were limited."

Potter gave Draco a searching look. "You didn't steal it, did you?"

Draco sighed and pushed away his plate. "If you must know, I did. But before you get all upset and indignant on the behalf of the suit's former owner, I'll have you know that the house I took it from belonged to some Muggles who were obviously very wealthy, and at the time my need was much greater than theirs. I think it's just their weekend house, anyway. They probably won't notice anything's gone."

Potter still looked slightly put out, but it didn't seem like he was about to lose his temper. "So, where was this house?"

"Up north in the Lake District."

"The Lake District? Why were you there?"

Draco shrugged. "I needed someplace where I knew there probably wouldn't be any wizards. My parents took me on holiday near this one village once, when I was little, and I remembered liking it."

"So why did you leave?"

"I was staying in a Muggle youth hostel (which was absolutely filthy, might I add, and filled with Muggle teens who all had long, dreadlocked hair and smelled as if they had never once bathed). After a few days there, some people I recognized as being Beauxbatons students showed up to go hiking (filthy pastime), and since I was afraid they might recognize me, I left and came here." Draco paused, wondering whether he should tell Potter the last bit of why he'd left. "I'd spent most of my time there trying to decide whether or not to come see you, actually. When the Beauxbatons students turned up, I figured I'd never be able to find somewhere totally safe on my own, and I was running out of Muggle money."

"Wait, where did you get Muggle money?"

"The same place I found the suit." Potter frowned and Draco began to feel a bit awkward. "Er, could I take a bath here?"

Potter fetched Draco some towels and gave Draco a set of Muggle clothes he assured him were more inconspicuous than his suit.

* * * * *

After showing Malfoy the way to the washroom and thinking that he still had many unanswered questions regarding Malfoy's activities over the past week, Harry returned to his bedroom to find Hedwig waiting for him on his bed with a letter from Hermione.

Harry,

I'm not entirely sure what's wrong with Ron. Perhaps you should have told him you and Ginny split up. I know what you were playing at by saying you'd stay at Grimmauld Place, but it might be a good idea if you really did stay there until we leave. I don't mean to say that Ron is particularly angry - I don't really know because he hasn't mentioned it to me - I'm only speculating.

See you tomorrow,

Hermione

PS. Thanks for telling me as well! I didn't even know until yesterday morning when I asked Ginny why she looked so down at breakfast. She seemed thoroughly surprised that I didn't know you had "dumped her because you think she's just a stupid child." Well, I look forward to hearing your side of the story.

Harry looked up from the letter, dumbfounded. How could Ginny think he thought she was a stupid child? And how could he have forgotten to tell Ron and Hermione that he had broken up with her? He always told them everything! But that was the problem, Harry supposed: he had been so caught up on the train home discussing Voldemort and Snape, Death Eaters and Horcruxes that he had completely forgotten to tell them about this monumental news regarding his personal life. He would have to apologize tomorrow. He was sure no lasting damage had been done with Hermione, but Harry had a feeling things would not be so easily smoothed over with Ron. Well, he would just have to try. Tomorrow he would just make sure that he get sufficient time alone with each of them to explain himself and apologize. After all, his intentions were nothing but good (despite what Ginny might say) and given all the stress he was under, how could they hold a grudge because he hadn't filled them in on his love life? It wasn't as though he was asking them for details about their budding relationship. No, he thought, everything would be just fine. Ron might take some time, but everything would work out. Had they not promised him their full support and friendship just a week ago at Dumbledore's funeral?

"Potter, these clothes are huge! This shirt could be a dress!" Malfoy caught sight of Harry sitting on his bed, looking utterly exhausted and holding the letter. "Bad news?"

Harry looked up. Malfoy had come back wearing Harry's old clothes, which, having once been Dudley's, looked as oversized on him as they did on Harry. He was toweling his hair dry with one hand and holding the waist of his jeans up with the other. Harry looked at his hand and realized he had been holding Hermione's letter crumpled up and clenched in his fists. "I - er, well. Sort of bad news, yeah," he answered lamely, and stood to find Malfoy a belt. Malfoy raised an eyebrow. "Personal stuff. I forgot to tell Ron and Hermione something and they're a bit bent out of shape about it, so tomorrow at the wedding - oh no, the wedding!" Harry smacked his forehead and Malfoy raised his eyebrow, if possible, even higher. "There's a wedding tomorrow. Ron's brother, Bill, is getting married to Fleur Delacour, the Tri-Wizard champion from Beauxbatons, if you remember her. And I have to go, but what am I going to do with you?"

Malfoy looked a bit offended. "I'm not an untrained Niffler, Potter - I can be left alone. You won't return to find I've torn up your sofa in search of shiny objects and left surprises in your shoes."

"That's just it, though - you can't stay here. After tomorrow, I'm leaving and I'm not quite sure where I'll be staying after the wedding. You're just going to have to come with me."

Malfoy was looking concerned. "I don't think anyone at that wedding will be too happy to see me there. And frankly, I wouldn't be caught dead at a social event like that, anyway," he added hurriedly.

Harry ignored Malfoy's rude comment and said, "No, I don't suppose they would be happy. I mean, I'll have to tell Ron and Hermione about you at some point, but I don't think tomorrow is the time to do it. I suppose this rules out staying at the Weasleys', even if I am invited." At this point Harry was speaking more to himself than Malfoy, and concluded, "Well, that'll just have to do."

"What?" asked Malfoy, "What will have to do?"

Harry looked at Malfoy. "You'll have to come. I can't leave you at my house in London alone (yes, Malfoy, I own a house in London), because it's not exactly friendly and there might be people popping in and out who I wouldn't want you running into. So you'll come and you'll have to wear my Invisibility Cloak."

* * *

"I feel ridiculous," Malfoy whispered in Harry's ear as they stepped aboard the Knight Bus the next morning. Harry ignored Malfoy's quiet complaints until he had stowed Malfoy's rucksack and his own luggage safely above two seats in the back of the second level and made sure Malfoy was sitting down on the inside seat, next to the window.

At this point, Harry decided it was safe to answer and muttered out of the corner of his mouth, "You feel ridiculous? No one can see you! How do you think I feel muttering to no one?" In fact, Harry now had new appreciation for his friends putting up with his company in Hogsmeade on several occasions while he donned his cloak. Malfoy didn't answer, but Harry heard him make a huffy sigh. Checking to see that the seats around them were empty, Harry whispered, "Okay, so this is how things will go today: you will remain under the cloak at all times, and unless I tell you otherwise, you will stay next to me. If I think I've lost you, I'll say, 'Oh no, I think I've lost my quill,' and then you'll tap my shoulder to let me know you're still there."

"That's stupid."

"No, it's important. There are a lot of people looking for you on both sides, so I need to know I don't have to run off to keep some loony from doing you in. I just want to get through this day without any major disasters. Anyway, if I thought there was somewhere I could leave you alone safely, believe me, I would. And I have to go to this wedding - if I don't show up, people will worry and then they'll be looking for me, too, and asking awkward questions. So I need you to promise me you'll do as I say today - I have to know you won't do something stupid."

"Fine," said Malfoy, "I'll be a perfect angel. But, 'Oh no, I think I've lost my quill'? Couldn't we think of a better code than that?"

"What do you suggest?"

"How about something simpler, like 'Do you know where the washroom is?'"

"Fine, unless it's Ron or Hermione or someone else who knows perfectly well that I know exactly where the washroom is. In that case it'll have to be my quill."

"Fine," said Malfoy. "Not that it matters anyway. I don't plan on getting lost because that will just mean spending more time there under this stupid thing."

* * * * *

Draco could not believe that he was being forced to attend this wedding. He supposed there was nothing wrong with the Delacour woman, but to be in the presence of so many Weasleys at one time was sure to be one of the most painful experiences of Draco's life - socially speaking. The ride on the Knight Bus was bearable, except that Potter was so overprotective and anxious. Draco wished Potter would just let him find a shady spot once they got to the Weasley abode and sit there until it was time to go, but Potter insisted that if he was going to do this 'helping-Malfoy-stay-alive-thing,' as he so eloquently put it, then he would do it right. Draco hated to admit it to himself, but he knew Potter had a perfectly valid point. Better safe than sorry and all that... it was just that Draco hated the Weasleys so very much.

When the Knight Bus stopped, Draco was sure this could not be where they were getting off. He knew the Weasley household would be small and run-down (he had made so many jokes about it in the past), but he had never thought anyone could live in a place like this. The house they were in front of, with a sign out front that read "The Burrow," looked like it would fall apart if someone so much as sneezed in its direction, and although many magical extensions appeared to have been added on, Draco couldn't figure out how the Weasleys had managed to fit their scores of offspring inside.

As if sensing Draco's disdain, Potter hissed, "Not a word about their house, Malfoy. You should be so lucky to stay someplace so wonderful."

Draco highly doubted this, but all he said was, "Did I say anything about their, er, 'house,' Potter?"

"And no sarcastic remarks, either."

"Who's being sarcastic?"

Without answering, Potter dragged his luggage in the direction of a large patch of trees behind The Burrow and gestured for Draco to take his belongings and do the same. "We can leave our things here and get them later."

"Unattended? What if someone takes something?"

"Obviously you've never been to a party with decent people before, Malfoy. No one here will take anything."

"Isn't that Mundungus Fletcher over their by the gifts?"

"Well, er, yes, but he knows not to steal from me and my name's on my things, so if you leave yours with mine you have nothing to worry about."

"Whatever you say, Potter," said Draco skeptically and followed his visible companion in the direction of the other guests.

The ceremony and reception were both being held in an orchard behind The Burrow, the far end of which had several rows of seats set up all facing a small platform where Draco supposed the actual ceremony would take place. It seemed to Draco that the whole area was practically buried in flowers, which, he was disappointed to see, were attracting an alarming amount of bees. Directly behind the seats, there was one patch of ground that had been kept clear (Draco assumed for the untrained, plebian dancing that would take place once the guests had ingested sufficient amounts of alcohol), and then nearest the path leading up from the house there were a dozen or so round tables set up with five or six chairs each. Draco groaned, but quietly enough to keep Potter from noticing.

"Harry!" Draco turned to see the Mudblood, Granger, running directly at him and side-stepped just in time to keep her from bumping into him as she threw herself upon Potter. "Harry, you should probably go and sit down, the ceremony is starting really soon. I'm sitting up front with Ron and the rest of the family, so I'll see you after."

As quickly as she had appeared, Granger ran off and sat down in the front row next to the Weasel King, who was unmistakable even from the back. She said something to him and he turned around to look at Potter. Potter waved, but Weasley showed no sign of having noticed and turned around to face front again. Even though Draco knew Potter couldn't have sat up front because of him, Potter was obviously put out by not having been asked.

"Weasley's mad at you, then?" Draco whispered.

"Shut up," said Potter.

"Pardon?"

"Oh, no, not you, Professor," said Potter to Lupin, who had just walked up behind them. "I was just, er, talking out loud to myself."

Draco snorted a laugh and Harry rubbed his nose, trying, Draco supposed, to look as though he had sneezed.

Lupin gave Potter a curious look and then said, "Right, well, would you care to take a seat with me, Harry? Most of the good ones seem to be taken, but the back row there appears to have room."

Potter nodded and Draco followed as they set off towards the last row of chairs. Potter made sure to dart ahead of Lupin so he could ensure Draco sat on the third seat into the row. He groped in midair for a moment until he lightly hit the back of Draco's head and then, apparently satisfied with Draco's position, sat down. The morning had been cold and Potter had worn a cloak, which he was able to drape over the back of Draco's seat to make it look as though it was being saved for someone. Once they were all seated, Lupin looked at Potter and smiled. "So, Harry, how are you? Looking forward to spending some time at The Burrow?"

"Er, I'm all right, but, um, Professor, I actually don't think I'll be staying here. I hope you won't mind if I stay at Grimmauld Place for a little while?"

Grimmauld Place. The name sounded familiar to Draco, but he couldn't quite figure out why.

"Mind? Of course not, Harry, I'll be glad of the company. I - " Lupin stopped talking, quickly slouching low in his seat and covering the right side of his face, which was facing the aisle.

Potter appeared puzzled. "Professor, what's -"

"Hi, Remus."

"Oh, er, Nymphadora, I, ah, didn't see you. How are you?"

"I'm fine. Harry, could you move down a seat so I could sit with you guys?"

"Er, no. I'm saving it for... someone. Sorry." Draco always liked it when he heard Gryffindors lie; there was something slightly satisfying about it.

"Oh, right," said Tonks. "Well, I'll see you later, then. Save me a dance, Remus."

Draco saw Lupin smile in a forced sort of way and nod. So Draco's cousin was lusting after a werewolf - how scandalous.

"Thank you, Harry," said Lupin. "I am eternally grateful."

"You're welcome I guess, but Professor, I'm confused," said Potter. "A few days ago, I mean, I thought you two -"

"Yes, well, Harry, a lot of people 'thought,' but they all seemed to think wrong."

"But at the funeral, you were holding hands."

Lupin sighed. "I know. I feel very badly. Harry, allow me to give you some advice about women. Just because they are crying does not mean you ought to do something you don't want to - it will only cause confusion and trouble."

"I don't mean to pry," said Potter, in what he obviously thought was a tactful manner, "but perhaps you ought to talk to Tonks. From what I could tell, she really likes you and if you don't like her, then you should just tell her and not make excuses... Sorry, sir."

Draco tried very hard not to laugh. Harry Potter giving love advice to a werewolf - it was priceless.

Lupin smiled. "No need to apologize, Harry. You are completely right. James would have said the same thing, and Sirius would have said it ages ago. And, Harry, please - no more 'Sir' or 'Professor.' I think it's time you called me Remus."

Harry smiled awkwardly. "Er, all right, Remus."

"How touching," Draco murmured. Potter took this opportunity to inconspicuously step on Draco's foot. Draco couldn't help inhaling sharply at this, but the sound was covered by the whine of bagpipes, which had struck up their abrasive song as the bridesmaids began to walk down the aisle. He vaguely recognized a petite blond girl as the one Potter had rescued from the lake during the Triwizard Tournament. She was Fleur Delacour's sister, if he remembered correctly. As she walked by, she smiled and gave Potter a quick wave, which he returned. Draco certainly recognized the girl who followed. The youngest Weasel. The love of The Boy Who Lived. However, as she passed, she gave no sign that she had seen Potter, and he looked at his feet until she had gone. Draco was puzzled by this, but fearing the safety of his toes, said nothing.

The bride soon followed and as she made her way towards the platform, all the guests stood for her. Draco did not consider himself a guest and remained seated. As Fleur Delacour walked by, her long silver hair flying loose behind her, Draco had a fleeting thought most different from those of the other males present. As she made her way past him, he wondered if that was how his mother had looked when she married his father. Draco had been trying very hard not to let his emotions get the better of him since he had left Spinners End and he had been surprisingly successful, but from the back, the bride resembled his mother just enough that he couldn't stop his eyes tearing up. He was, for the first time of the day, frightfully glad for Potter's Invisibility Cloak.

Draco had always thought Narcissa Malfoy was the loveliest woman in the world and although he acknowledged that Fleur was indeed beautiful, he felt that, despite the small resemblance, she was no match for his mother. He sniffed as quietly as he could manage to keep his nose from running and hoped Potter hadn't heard. Potter's eyes remained fixed on the ceremony taking place ahead, though Draco noticed his brow furrow slightly. Praying Potter's facial expression was due to something happening up front, Draco quietly wiped his nose on the hem of the oversized t-shirt he was wearing (not something he normally ever would have done, but seeing as he was without a handkerchief and the shirt was practically a rag anyway, he made an exception).

After the ceremony was over, everyone went to the tables to eat the lunch that had magically appeared while the bride and groom had been saying their vows. Draco noticed Potter trying to intercept Granger, but the crowd was too thick and Potter was slowed down by his insistence that he keep a hand on Draco's arm to avoid losing him.

Draco obediently followed Potter's lead as he went from table to table until he finally found his assigned place setting. Potter had not been seated with his friends and it appeared as though he had been stuck with the guests at the bottom of the barrel, so to speak. Draco stood behind Potter's chair and watched him eat and feign interest in some great Weasley uncle's stories of giant cabbage farming near Cornwall.

Halfway through his cake, Potter spent a good thirty seconds staring wistfully in the direction of the table at which the wedding party was seated. Draco took this opportunity to steal the rest of the icing off Potter's cake.

When the meal was finally over and the band struck up a lively tune, Draco hoped Potter might say he had given up on talking to his friends and that they could leave, but his hopes were soon dashed. Pretending to drop his knife on the ground, Potter kneeled to pick it up and tugged on the bottom of the Invisibility Cloak, indicating for Draco to kneel with him.

"Right, I have to speak to Hermione. If I leave you out of the way over there, will you be all right to just wait for me for a few minutes?"

"Out of the question, Potter. What if someone walks into me or something? If I'm with you, it'll just look like you're clumsy, but if I'm all by myself, then there won't be anyone else to take the blame."

"Fine," said Potter, "but don't say anything. And remember that nothing she and I or anyone else talks about here is your business. I know I can't help you hearing it, but I don't want to have to acknowledge that you heard it later, so... so... just do whatever you need to do to pretend you're not here."

"Right, Potter," said Draco skeptically. "I'll do my best. But why not just cast that handy spell you were always using in Potions last year that made us all hear static for the whole class?"

"You knew about that?"

"Of course. I mean, the first three or four times I thought I was just losing my hearing, but after about ten I figured it out."

Potter stared pointedly about five inches to the right of where Draco was actually kneeling and said, "Because I promised myself I wouldn't use that spell anymore."

"Right," said Draco, "I won't ask. Anyway, we've been down here for almost a minute and people may begin to wonder just what you're doing under the table all by yourself, so why don't we go find Granger and get this over with."

Draco followed close behind Potter as he weaved his way through the crowd towards where Granger was chatting with an Auror Draco recognized as Kingsley Shacklebolt. He couldn't help but notice that Potter made an abrupt correction in his path to avoid coming too close to Ginny Weasley, which caused them to walk in a loop before they actually reached their destination.

"Hermione." Potter tapped her on the shoulder. "Can we talk?"

"Sure," she said and politely ended her conversation with Shacklebolt, then followed Potter down the path to the Weasley house, where the two Gryffindors sat on the back steps. Draco had no intention of not listening, so he sat quietly in the grass just a few feet away.

"So, what's up, Harry?"

"Well, I wanted to say sorry for not telling you and Ron about my split with Ginny. I mean, I know I should have told you, but the only chance I really had was on the train ride home, and well, we were just talking about other things and it slipped my mind. I know that sounds awful, but my brain is a really full place right now - this'll sound weird, I know, but after that, for some reason, I just thought you knew."

Granger patted Potter on the shoulder. "It's fine, Harry. I completely understand. Ginny elaborated on why you broke up with her and honestly I think you made the right choice."

"You do? Thanks, Hermione." Potter smiled at her and she smiled back. Then he asked a bit awkwardly, "Er, how is she?"

"Well, she's not so good, to be honest."

"What? She was fine when I did it. She said she didn't agree with me, but she - she seemed fine! Why's she upset now?"

"Why do you think, Harry? She misses you. And, yes, she may have understood a week ago, but since then she's had a bit of time to think about it and when someone's distanced from a situation that they don't like, well, it can become easy for them to put a lot of blame on the other person and make them look like the baddie. So, well, she's quite mad at you now."

"Well, that's just stupid," Potter said. Draco felt that Potter was truly a master of articulation. "How can she be so upset? The breakup is for her own safety. Why is she being so immature?"

"I know it may seem 'stupid,' Harry, but she really likes you, and I think it's easier for her to be angry than just accept that it's over. At least for now."

Potter sighed. "All right. And what about Ron?"

"Well, he's not particularly happy with you, either. I've tried to explain to him why it's for the best, but all he seems to be able to understand is that you've hurt his little sister and he says he doesn't want to see you right now. In fact, none of the Weasley children really do, from what I gather."

"That explains a lot." Draco had to agree. He had been marveling at how miraculously Weasley-free his day had been. "Well, I'm just going to have to talk with Ron and try and explain to him - "

"Harry, I told you, I tried already. I think he knows it's for the best, really, but he's determined to be cross with you. I haven't had time to talk to Bill because of everything that's been going on here, but Charlie seems to be receptive to the fact that you were acting in Ginny's best interests. The twins are as angry as Ron, but then again I haven't really tried to explain anything to them yet."

"Right," said Potter. "I can't believe this. We're in the middle of a war and all they can think of is that Ginny's feelings got hurt, not that I might have just saved her life - again."

Granger shrugged. "It's an older brother thing, I suppose. I'm not really sure how Mr. and Mrs. Weasley are. I haven't had time to talk to them, but I think they'll agree that it's for the best, at least. I certainly wouldn't take it personally if either of them don't say hello, anyway. Ginny switched your seating assignment and they're both too wrapped up in wedding business to go out of their way to find anyone, even you.

"Anyway, Harry, listen. You can't worry about all that right now. I'll keep talking to all of them and I'm sure everything will blow over. But in the meantime, you have work to do. With Ron the way he is now, we can't leave for Godric's Hollow yet, but I think there might be quite a lot we can do at Grimmauld Place. I think I might have worked out who R.A.B is." Potter gave her a look that clearly said to stop talking. "What?" she asked.

"Er, I don't think it's safe to talk about that here... There's a lot of people around. Anyone could be listening."

Draco rolled his eyes. Really, who did Potter think he was going to tell? He didn't even know what they were talking about.

"Harry, we're completely alone. Everyone else is at the party."

"Look, I'll explain later. But you're just going to have to come to Grimmauld Place because we've been saying way more in owls than we should have and it's not like I can very well come here now. And see if you can bring Ron, all right?"

"Fine," said Granger. "Anyway, we should get back. But Harry, I do have a lot to tell you, so I'll come over as soon as I can. And I'll see if I can convince Ron to come along." They stood to go, but then Granger grabbed Potter's arm and said, "Oh, and Harry, I was thinking you might want to let Lupin in on some of this. Perhaps not everything, but I think we need someone older to help us. I mean, without Dumbledore, there's only so much we'll be able to figure out on our own without taking a lifetime to do it. I would have suggested Mr. Weasley, but as you and Lupin will be staying together now, I reckon he's the best choice."

Potter nodded. "I've been thinking the same thing."

"Good. Now let's go."

All three of them walked back to the clearing where the party was still in full swing. As they made their way there, Draco couldn't help but be mildly curious as to what the Gryffindors were thinking of "letting Lupin in on." Once they made it back, the Weasel came over and, completely ignoring Potter, grabbed Granger's hand and dragged her to the dance floor like a caveman claiming his mate. Among the many dancing couples, Draco spotted Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, as well as the bride and groom. And over to the side, sitting in a chair and looking glum, he saw Ginny Weasley, the topic of much frustration, tapping her foot in time to the music. "Wait here," Potter muttered. "I have to talk to someone else. I'll be right back, I just don't want you to have to weave through the crowd." Draco watched him jog over to Ginny and grab her by the wrist, pulling her away from her chair. Potter gestured to him to follow as he led the girl down towards the house, where they had gone with Granger. But as they approached the steps, all three of them stopped at the sounds of sobbing coming from just around the right side of the house.

"I just d-don't understand," sniffed the voice of Draco's cousin, Nymphadora. "We held hands at the funeral!"

"I know," said Lupin, in what Draco thought sounded like a very tired voice. "And again, Nymphadora, I'm sorry, but it seemed like the right thing to do. You were upset and I'm your friend. I thought I had made myself clear before that, but I suppose I hadn't."

"No. You've been sending me m-m-mixed messages for ages. First you give me all the reasons why we can't see each other, then you were perfectly nice to me at that one Order meeting, but then when I asked again you told me off. And at Hogwarts, I thought we'd decided to see each other, so at the funeral - "

"I'm sorry if you took my friendship for mixed messages. I simply didn't want your feelings to get in the way of that, and I thought acting normally would make things less awkward. And as for that day at Hogwarts in the hospital wing, I don't think we decided anything," said Remus firmly. "We were all upset and I don't think I said one thing to suggest that I wanted a romantic relationship with you - quite the contrary. And you put me on the spot there at a very awkward time. I wasn't about to be harsh in front of all those people, and certainly not when we had all suffered such a great loss. Being harsh isn't like me, anyway, but now it seems that I have no choice. And as for the funeral, well, I'm sorry Nymphadora, but as I have already said, you were very upset, and we're friends, so I did the friendly thing."

"You don't know anything about women, Remus Lupin!" Nymphadora exclaimed. "You don't know anything at all. And don't think I haven't got any ideas about why. Friends my arse." Potter quickly hid around the other side of the house and pulled Ginny with him as Nymphadora stormed off back towards the party.

A few moments later Draco heard Lupin say, his voice once again slow and fatigued, "No, I suppose I don't know much about women."

Potter waited until Lupin's footsteps had faded away before he turned to Ginny. "So," he said, finally, "what's all this about you being angry with me?"

"Hermione's lying," said the littlest Weasley with her arms crossed. "I'm not angry. I know why you chucked me and I don't like it and I think it's stupid and that you don't know what you're doing, but I'm not angry."

"Of course you are! You think I can't tell?" She sniffed and looked back towards the clearing. "Listen," said Potter, "if being angry with me is what you need to do to be okay with this, then fine. I'm only trying to save your life, Ginny. But please, tell Ron to talk to me again. I know I can't make you forgive me, but it's nothing to do with him."

"I think you should go, Harry."

"But I haven't even seen Bill and Fleur yet -"

"Go, Harry!"

Potter didn't wait to be told twice. "Where's the washroom?" he said, obviously not caring if Ginny thought he was nuts, and as Draco tapped his shoulder lightly to confirm his presence, they set off back towards the party to retrieve Potter's wool cloak, leaving Ginny sobbing by the house. After the cloak had been found, the two boys started walking towards the trees where they had left their luggage when Lupin intercepted Potter and said, "Harry, I think I'm going to head out. I'll see you at the house, all right?"

"Oh, well, I was actually just getting my things. We can catch the bus together, if you like."

Lupin waited while Potter and his invisible companion gathered their luggage and together they walked to the road where Lupin stuck out his wand arm for the Knight Bus. Stan Shunpike had still not been released, so it was just the old wizard Ernie Prang who was in charge of the bus now, and things were a bit slow going. He tried to help Potter with his trunk but couldn't lift it, so Lupin, impatient to leave, levitated everything and stowed it above the seats. The ride passed in silence. Even Draco could tell Lupin and Potter were both in foul moods (not that his was much better) as they both sat there in heavy silence, broken only by the guttural noises made by the bus.

The bus had to drop Madam Marsh off first and then a woman who Draco thought looked like a hag had to go to Manchester, so it took a good twenty minutes until the bus came to a stop on a decrepit-looking Muggle street. Draco prayed Potter's London house wasn't one of these appalling buildings. He didn't think he could bear such squalor. He looked at Potter and saw that he had a pained expression on his face as he viewed his surroundings. Perhaps Potter was none too fond of this place either. Then, suddenly, he asked, "Prof - er, Remus. Who's Secret Keeper now for the Order? I mean, couldn't anyone just walk up to the house and blow it up or something now, with Dumbledore gone?"

Lupin laughed in what sounded like disbelief. "No one has told you, Harry?"

Potter shook his head. "Told me what?"

"Well, I suppose we all have been rather busy; I'd only assumed Minerva or someone...Well, anyway, Harry. In Dumbledore's will, he did not just state to whom he wished his possessions to go (though I believe you have acquired some of those as well - I'll look into that later), but also certain spells." Potter looked confused. "You see, there are certain spells, like the Fidelius Charm, which require someone to hold on to the magic, you might say, and in the event that that the spell's caster becomes physically incapable of holding that magic anymore, then he or she can stipulate to whom the magic should pass. So, Harry, Dumbledore made you Secret Keeper in his will. It only makes sense, as Grimmauld Place belongs to you."

Potter seemed relieved and, smiling, said, "The headquarters of The Order of the Phoenix may be found at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, London."

"Harry, what're you..." Lupin began.

Draco was also momentarily confused, but before his very eyes the building Potter spoke of grew out of nowhere and understanding dawned.

"Hang on till we're inside and then I'll explain everything," Potter said to Lupin and climbed the stairs to the front door.