Harry Potter and The Druid's Call

Harry Potter and The Druid's Call

Chapter Four

Unlike before, the small crowd did not part as they walked, instead it gathered in their path like a living wall. Fleur glared at any who barred their way, and, male or female, they jumped out of her path. Harry, on the other hand just kept walking until the had no choice but to move or be run over. This wasn't very effective, and so far all they had managed to do was end up in the center of the pack. Someone grabbed Harry's arm, and he wrenched it away. This started a chain reaction of limb grabbing, Harry frantically pulled his arms and on occasion legs, from the reaching grasps of many. Fleur remained untouched, much to Harry's further disgruntlement, frustration, and rising anger.

Unbeknownst to Harry, his eyes lit up in anger, alarming many who were close by. When he started to scowl, more started backing away. Another girl grabbed his arm from behind, and when Harry whirled around, she met his flaming emerald eyes. She let go of his arm immediately, and disappeared back into the crowd. More and more people backed away. Harry thought he might have put half the Smeltings female population off bad boys permanently. The guys dispersed, but of course they had to look manly doing it. They suddenly seemed to see other, prettier girls to chase after, as if any at the dance could rival Fleur. Some asked for a dance later, and rushed off in a manly way.

They now had a clear path to the dance floor, but they had no reason to go there now. Fleur was walking as if she had not even seen what had occurred. Harry wasn't sure he believed it himself. Had he just scared off dozens with a look? Harry's anger waned as the stepped onto the edge of the dance floor. Fleur stopped.

"Since, you scared everyone off, we really have no reason to do this. So should we leave? I can take you to Professor Figg's house, until it's time for you to go home," she said, while staring closely at his face.

Here was finally Harry's chance to escape. He wouldn't have to dance after all. Then why was he hesitating? He knew he was standing in front of the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen or met. Any guy he knew would leap at the chance to be in this situation. It didn't really matter if he made a fool of himself, he only knew three people there. Fleur obviously wanted to dance. Why else would she have brought him to the very edge of the dance floor before asking him if he'd like to leave? Harry made his decision. "Fleur would you like to dance?"

Harry had interpreted her actions correctly. She beamed at him, and bodily dragged him into the middle of the dance floor. Then a slow dance started up and started rethinking his choice. He was really stuck now, with no way out. Fleur stopped and wrapped her arms around his midsection, and laid her head on his chest. His chest? Harry had only been slightly taller than her a few months ago. He wondered how he'd managed to have a growth spurt with what the Dursley's had been feeding him, and how it had gone unnoticed by Harry. Nevertheless, this was much closer than Harry had intended to be. He hadn't even danced this close with Parvati Patil, who he had dated merely as a convenience so he wouldn't look like a fool by not having a date. Had even apologized to her?

Harry placed his hands on her waist, and they revolved slowly. Harry didn't feel tense or stupid as he had thought he would, instead he felt... content for the first time in a long time, since before the Goblet of Fire, the Triwizard Tournament, Cedric's death, and Voldemort's resurrection. Emotions overwhelmed him all at once, as he dredged up buried memories: grief, anger, frustration, weariness, and for the first time in Harry's short life, hate. Harry couldn't handle all of this at once. He buried his face in Fleur's hair, and sobbed silently. Fleur sensed a change in Harry, her grip became a comforting one than... whatever it had been before. They still revolved slowly as the song washed over them. The song ended and Fleur led Harry back to their table. Harry felt like a fool. He had ruined another dance. Fleur didn't say anything. She handed him one of the napkins that had lain, decoratively on their table. Honking his nose on the cloth napkin made feel even more the fool. What had come over him? He had been fine one minute, and then his emotional dam had broken wide open.

"Are you all right, Harry?" she asked. What had happened to her accent? He seemed to be noticing a lot of things after the fact. Why was he thinking of something totally irrelevant anyway?

"I'm fine," he lied. Harry surveyed the room. Dudley was seated next to the doorway that led to the kitchens, with three plates clutched in his piggy hands. He looked impatient and annoyed. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon were slow dancing. They seemed to be enjoying themselves greatly. None of his relatives looked eager to leave any time soon. "I'm ready to leave, though. Can I stay at Mrs. Figg's until the Dursleys get home?"

"Sure, let's go." She grabbed her purse and they left. She drove a dark blue, Mitsubishi sports car. The drive to Mrs. Figg's home was not long, but for Harry it seemed to drag out perpetually. When they finally did arrive no lights shone through any of the windows, so Fleur let them in.

"I'll drive you home in an hour or so," she said through a yawn that distorted her words. Harry went into the living room, while Fleur went to go change out of her dress. He sat on the couch next to a ginger-furred feline. It woke up, and what cat wouldn't when a person comes crashing down out of nowhere. Like all cats, it wasn't startled for long, and like most cats turned the situation to its advantage. It yawned and stretched and inserted and pulled its claws out of the couch before climbing up in Harry's lap and promptly falling asleep. Harry picked up the television remote and switched on the television. He was changing the channel, trying to find something that wasn't an information commercial for a cheap product, or a bad music video that no one wanted to watch, but the station had to play, when Fleur came down in a monstrous tee-shirt that hid all her other clothing. She sat at the other end of the couch, and after kicking, a now very annoyed and now highly hostile cat, placed her feet in Harry's lap. Harry stared. She shrugged. "Wake me in an hour," she said through another yawn, before falling asleep.

Harry flipped through some more channels, and only after realizing he had completely cycled all the stations twice did he switch it off. Harry now had nothing to do to keep him awake, and an hour was starting to feel like a long time. A cat, different from the first, settled in behind his head, making a very nice pillow. Harry struggled to fight off sleep. After many close calls, where only his falling head, or a noise made by cats, woke him up, he found himself staring at Fleur's feet. She had very nice feet, with perfectly formed ankles and toes. Finally sleep claimed him.

~*~*~*~

Harry, woke up to someone poking him in the back of the head. Harry saw the smiling face of Mrs. Figg around an obstruction that was literally lying on his face. The obstruction turned out to be one of those feet he had been considering so intently the night before. The night before? What time was it now? He tried to ask Mrs. Figg, but the foot was still there. He pushed it away. It seemed Fleur was somewhat of a wild sleeper. Somehow she had managed to become seated in Harry's lap. Harry was wondering what to think of this when Mrs. Figg spoke, "Hello, Harry, sorry to wake you, but I think it's time you should be going home."

"Um... yeah, I think so too, but how do I get up?" Fleur was not the only living thing on him; cats covered him wherever Fleur didn't. All were calico or tortoiseshell. It seemed he had much animal magnetism.

"Yes, you do seem to have a problem, fortunately I have a solution!" She walked off into the kitchen, and came back in carrying a large bag of cat food. She shook it once and immediately every cat woke up and darted towards Mrs. Figg. Cats appeared from everywhere: drapes, windowsills, a bookshelf, and through the doorways. They swarmed around Mrs. Figg and the bag, giving Harry a sense of deja vu.

"Harry," Mrs. Figg called over the mewling mass of cat voices, "could you take Ms. Delacour upstairs before you go? It's the last room on the right."

Harry picked Fleur up; she was much lighter than he would have thought. He picked his way through cats of every size, shape, and color and made it to the steps. He carefully went up them. The hall was longer than he remembered; of course, Mrs. Figg was a witch. Halfway there Fleur's shirt fell down, and revealed her thighs. Harry stumbled, and almost dropped Fleur. Like the rest of her, they were perfect. Harry tried not to look as he steadied himself. He took deep, calming breaths as he continued. He let out a sigh of relief when he finally reached her room. It was plain. A bed, a night stand, a closet and a small desk were all its features. It was almost identical to Harry's own room. It even had a trunk at the foot of the bed. Harry dumped Fleur on the bed and piled sheets over her. She looked very peaceful, with her hair splayed out all over and a small smile on her face.

Harry left slowly. He didn't even want to know what the Dursleys would do to him. He wondered if they thought he had left for good. The walk back was as uneventful as the drive to Mrs. Figg's. Only this time, no matter how slowly Harry dragged his feet, it felt like it was over too fast.

Number four was the same as ever, though why he felt something should be different, he didn't know. He walked up to the door, and knocked. Surprisingly, Dudley was the one who opened the door to admit him. His expression turned sour when he saw who it was. "Oh, it's you," was all he said before walking off in the direction of the living room.

Harry closed and locked the door, before trekking up the stairs. Upon arrival in his room, he glanced in the large mirror on the closet door. His hair was more unruly than ever, but other than that there were no changes that he could see. After sleeping on a couch, and most likely being kicked several times by Fleur, one would think that it would be upset in some fashion. It wasn't, in fact the only difference that he could see where cat hairs. He brushed these of as he put the suit away, and in doing so discover a bulge in the jacket. Harry reached in and pulled out a letter... a parchment letter. It was old and yellowed, like the Marauder's Map, and it was addressed to Harry and a someone else whose name he couldn't make out in the same emerald ink as the suit.

Harry opened it carefully, and read:

Dearest Lily,

In the package with this is a suit that belonged to one of my ancestors, the first Slytherin in my family. He had this suit made as a family heirloom, and as such it has been passed down through every male Slytherin in the family. As I have no heirs, and now am not likely to have any, I give this suit to my honorary godson. While it is likely he will be a Gryffindor, he does have your beautiful eyes, and that will make up for it. It has all the necessary charms on it except two, these I am not talented enough to carry out. A growing charm, and a linking charm between it and Harry so they will grow at the same pace, and the suit will always fit him.

With Love,

Severus

P.S.

I'm not sure if I did the fur repelling charm or not.

Harry felt very uncomfortable all of the sudden. He quickly finished packing it up, and threw it in his trunk. It was closely followed by the letter. Harry felt like he needed a long bath; he would owl Ron about it later. After a very long, cleansing, hot bath in Dudley's monstrous claw footed, basin type tub, he felt refreshed, and had conveniently forgotten about the letter. He put on a plain, white, tee-shirt, and some white, oversized, synthetic material, shorts, and went downstairs. He sat on the far end of the couch from Dudley, which meant they were just barely touching. Harry didn't watch the show. It looked boring. Instead he put his head on the back of the couch and dozed.

Dudley interrupted his near-sleep state, "So... what was it like?"

"What was what like?" Harry relied, not opening his eyes.

"You know," he said.

"No, I don't know. Why don't you tell me?" Harry was already annoyed, usually it took more than a few stupid questions to irritate him, or the Creeveys might be hospitalized permanently, but after the letter, and other tense situations, his temper was on a short fuse.

"You know," he repeated, before making a series of grunts, groans, sighs, and moans.

Then it clicked. Dudley thought he had shagged Fleur. His face burned. "We didn't do anything like that. She just drove me to Mrs. Figg's house, that's where she's staying, and she fell asleep before she could take me home."

"So you guys aren't together?" he asked.

"No, Where are you going?" Harry asked, Dudley had switched the television off, and was struggling to get up.

"To Mrs. Figg's house, of course," he said once he was standing up, and breathing heavily through his nose.

"Do you even know how to get there? And where are your parents?" Harry asked.

"Sure I do, and Mum, and Dad are out, have been since the last night. They followed me home, and then drove off. Mum calls in every twenty minutes though," he said. He left then, and for the first time Harry had the entire house to himself, and oddly enough he didn't feel like doing anything.

He went back up to his room, and composed short letters to Ron and Hermione. He didn't mention either of the strange letters, that could wait for a face to face conversation. Right on cue Hedwig glided silently through the open window, and landed on Harry's shoulder.

"Hey, girl, can you take these letters, to Ron, and Hermione?"

She gave an affirmative hoot and Harry stuck the rolled up parchment sheets in the small leg pouch. Hedwig gave another hoot and soared out of the window. Harry watched until she became a small spec. Then he wondered what he could do. He heard the sound of trucks pulling up in the drive, and he smiled. On his way downstairs to meet the workers the phone rang, it was Aunt Petunia.

"Hello?"

"Why are you answering the phone?"

"Because Dudley isn't here."

"Well, where is he?"

"At Mrs. Figg's house, visiting Fleur."

"Who is Fleur?"

"The blonde girl I was talking to at the banquet."

"That wench? Why would Dudley go to that whore, he's too good to be dirtied by her diseases!" Her voice was a screech.

"She's not a prostitute, Aunt Petunia." Harry was exasperated.

"So I suppose you didn't sleep with her?"

"Of course not!"

"Don't you lie to me! You probably have all her filthy diseases now! We certainly won't pay to get you cured!" Harry thought he heard roaring laughter in the background.

"Bye, Aunt Petunia." He hung the phone up before she could say anything else.

Harry walked out into the blazing midday heat. Les walked up smiling. "You helping out today Harry?" Harry nodded and was set to work carrying interlocking boards of wood down into the cellar.

The cellar flooring was nearly finished, in fact it looked as if this would be the last day. "All right there Harry?" asked Nick, who was already busy putting the boards together and gluing them in place.

"Yeah, I'm fine." Harry started to work next to Nick. They each worked silently and efficiently, and in a few hours, all was finished. People started packing up to leave. Harry watched them go. Finally it was only Harry, Les, and Nick.

"I'm finished for today, Les. See ya around kid." Was his only farewell to Harry. Harry was sad to see him go, this would probably be the last time he'd ever see Nick.

Les walked up, "So Harry, this is it. We're done. Sort of satisfying to see something that you made with your own to hands isn't it."

"Yeah it is, but you guys did all the work," Harry replied.

"Nonsense, you work twice as hard as any of my boys, including myself. This never would have been finished as fast if you weren't here. You made them work harder, and faster. And you only came three times. I don't have an opening right now, and I know you're going back to your school soon, so next summer, if you're looking for a job, call me." He handed Harry a card and walked off.

Harry pocketed the card and walked back inside. Harry decided to forego dinner. He wasn't very hungry. He took a quick shower, and went to sleep.