The Scent of Lightning

Chapter Four

"You look terrible, mate," Ron said, looking up as Harry walked into his office.

"Rough practice." That was true, they had been training hard for their upcoming match against the Harpies, but it wasn't the whole truth. Harry hadn't been sleeping well since visiting the Chamber of Secrets. Last night he had relived finding the Philosopher's Stone, and although Slytherin hadn't made his presence known in Harry's dream, that didn't mean he hadn't been there. "Any news on Slytherin?" he asked Ron hopefully.

Ron shook his head. "Sorry, but I've turned up nothing. I've been stuck with this Ives case and it's driving me mad. Two witnesses saw him go out of a bar - alone. Another witness saw him a few minutes before he died - again, alone. And then he just collapsed for no apparent reason. I'm almost positive Nott knows something about it, but he has a solid alibi." Ron shook his head. "Sorry, I'm sure you don't want to hear about work stuff. What brings you down here?"

"I'm trying to figure out what to get Draco for Christmas," Harry replied, trying not to blush. "And I thought you could help."

Ron raised his eyebrows. "Me?"

"Remember when you told me about Slytherin's book? You said that the Aurors had taken a bunch of stuff from Malfoy Manor - that a lot of it wasn't even connected to the Dark Arts. What did they do with all of that?"

Ron shrugged. "It's probably sitting in the basement."

Harry leaned forward. "Do you think I could take it? Just the harmless stuff, of course. It's useless to the Ministry, but I think it would mean a lot to Draco if he got it back."

"I don't know." Ron shifted in his chair. "Robards won't like it."

"Please, Ron? All he has is one picture of his parents."

Ron relented. "Okay, fine. We'll go down, see what they've done with it. Let me just check on which room it's being held in."

They got into the lift a few minutes later, and Ron punched the button for the storage areas located in the basement of the Ministry. "So you're planning on coming over to the Burrow on Christmas?" Ron asked him.

Harry shot him a quick glance. "Yeah, we are - if that's okay."

Ron hesitated for a spit second, grinned. "It's fine. We better keep Draco away from Fred and George, though. You know how they love unsuspecting victims."

"Right." Harry smiled back. "I definitely don't want to spend Christmas with a canary or a Draco with purple spots."

The lift stopped and Ron led the way down a passage, opened one of the many doors leading off the hallway. "It should be in here," he said.

There were boxes piled around, all labeled. Most of them said things like DANGER and RESTRICTED and carried routing numbers for different departments. In one corner, though, were three unmarked boxes. One was open, and Harry could see a jumble of items inside. "This must be it," he said, walking over.

"Looks like," Ron agreed.

Harry pulled out a chipped plate with flowers painted on the edges. Would this stuff have any significance at all for Draco? He ran his thumb over the broken edge and remembered a keychain with a cheap plastic prism attached to it that he had found on the sidewalk when he was little. He had treasured it, hidden it from Dudley. "I'm taking these," he said.

Ron nodded silently.

v.v.v.v.v.v.

"Here again, are you?"

Hermione looked up into the smiling face of Geoffrey. "Oh, yes," she replied distractedly, her mind still focused on the book she had been reading. She had looked over the portal spell a hundred times - checked and re-checked it - read every book on the afterlife in the library. She must have missed something, there had to be a reason why there was no sign of Slytherin, but she hadn't been able to come up with anything.

"You can check these out, you know. Take them home to read."

"I know." Hermione thought of the chilly atmosphere which had pervaded home lately. "I like it here."

Geoffrey sat down next to her. "So what do you do, Hermione? Besides read books?"

"I'm a Healer at St. Mungo's," she replied. "I work on experimental healing techniques..." Hermione paused, but Geoffrey nodded encouragingly, so she went on to tell him about the various potions and spells she was working on. Usually when Hermione discussed her work with people (Ron, for example) they got a glazed look in their eyes after a few minutes and quickly lost interest. Geoffrey, though, listened attentively, even asking the occasional question.

"Impressive," Geoffrey said as she wound down. "You must have been a Ravenclaw at Hogwarts."

"Gryffindor, actually. How about you? Which house were you in?"

"I wasn't a student at Hogwarts."

"Oh, I didn't realise you weren't from England."

"No, I am. I just had a more...unorthodox magical education."

"Really?" Hermione leaned forward. "I've read about systems of apprenticeship, but I thought those weren't practiced anymore."

"Sometimes they are." Geoffrey smiled. "Actually, I've done most of my study independently. That's why I'm spending so much time here in the library."

Hermione smiled back. "Well, I can certainly understand that. Not that I didn't love Hogwarts, but I did feel that sometimes not enough attention was given to allowing students to progress beyond the limits of classroom studies."

"I agree."

"So, I've told you all about my projects. What are you working on?"

Geoffrey hesitated. "I'm doing a research paper for a university on some topics in ancient history. I don't want to go into too many details - I'm still in the planning phase." Hermione nodded. She was exactly the same way, not wanting to divulge anything until she was sure she had it right. "But don't worry," Geoffrey went on, "once I've figured out exactly what I'm doing, you'll be one of the first to know."

v.v.v.v.v.v.

"Fiiiive gooool-den riiiings!" Draco flung his arms wide as he sung the words loudly up at the night sky.

"Enough, enough," Harry said, laughing. He stumbled over to Draco, flung his arms around him. "I knew you would be bad, but I didn't know how bad."

Draco pushed him off. "Four calling birds, three French - what was it again?"

"Hens. Three French hens. Now come inside. It's freezing out here."

Their feet crunched through the snow as they walked up to the door. Harry missed the first step and practically went over head first into a snow pile, but Draco grabbed him around the waist.

Stumbling into the house, Harry felt Draco tugging on his jacket, pressing kisses against his neck. They tried to sit down on the couch, but missed, sliding onto the floor in a heap instead. "Sing 'O Holy Night' for me, Harry," Draco murmured, struggling with the buttons of Harry's shirt. "You're so fucking hot when you sing that song."

"Can't sing now," Harry gasped, rolling Draco over onto his back and kissing him. Draco moaned under him, and coherent thought fled.

v.v.v.v.v.v.

Draco woke up to the harsh light of morning and a hangover. He slowly opened one eye. Harry was resting his head on Draco's chest, but his eyes were open. He grinned when he saw that Draco was awake. "Merry Christmas, love."

Draco groaned. "How much alcohol did you give me last night?"

"Well, it took half a bottle just to get you out the door. You were a smashing hit with the neighbors, though."

Draco groaned again. Harry leaned over and picked up a glass from the bedside table, pushed it into Draco's hand. "Hangover potion."

The stuff tasted awful, but Draco gulped it all down. Slowly, he began to feel like he might live past breakfast.

"Do you want to open your presents now?" Harry asked.

"You do, obviously."

"It's Christmas," Harry replied, kissing him on the nose. Draco sighed, but allowed Harry to pull him from the bed.

Harry waved the tree lights on with his wand when they went into the other room. Draco knew that most of the presents under the tree were for Harry - from his friends, Lupin, and assorted admirers. Granger had sent Draco a present, too, though. A book, by the feel of it. But now a large, brightly wrapped box had been added to the pile. "This is for you," Harry said, pushing it towards Draco.

Bemused, Draco began untying the ribbon. Harry sat down, staring intently at him with an excited, but slightly nervous expression on his face. Draco opened the lid, wondering what on earth Harry had gotten for him.

The first thing he pulled out was his mother's hairbrush. He had a blinding memory of her dressed in a ball gown, the heavy scent of perfume filling the room, pulling the brush through her long hair. "Oh..." His fingers trembled, and a tear slipped down his cheek.

Harry was next to him in an instant, wrapping his arms around him. "I'm sorry. If you don't want them - "

"No, I do. I do. It's just..."

Harry rested his head on Draco's shoulder. "I wanted you to have more than just a picture," he murmured. Draco pulled him into a fierce hug.

"My present for you is nothing like this," Draco said.

"What is it?" Harry asked eagerly.

Draco pulled out a flat present and handed it to him.

"Is this a book?" Harry asked. "You're not turning into Hermione, are you?"

Draco hit him on the arm. "Just open it."

Harry ripped back the paper. It was a book - "Ulric the Unflinching's Guide to Dueling?"

"Since you were so abysmal the last time."

Harry gave him a look. "The last time you were the one who cheated."

"Exactly. Ulric includes an entire chapter about hitting your opponent when their back is turned and the unethical, but extremely useful, practice of wand switching."

"Trying to corrupt me?" Harry said with a grin.

Draco kissed him. "Perhaps."

v.v.v.v.v.v.

Hermione set the plate of Christmas cookies she had brought next to the numerous pies and puddings already decorating the sideboard. George sneaked a hand around her, grabbing one and popping it into his mouth. "They're charmed to make you grow antlers," Hermione said in a sweet tone.

George choked, spraying crumbs over his shirt.

"Just joking." Hermione patted him on the back.

"Got you there, George," Fred said, grinning. "Not a bad idea, though, Hermione. Might have to look into it for next Christmas."

The radio was cheerfully playing Christmas carols in a corner. The doorbell rang. "Can someone get that?" Mrs. Weasley shouted from the direction of the kitchen.

Hermione stepped over to the door, opened it. Ginny was standing there, bundled up in a red and green scarf, her hand tucked through the arm of a young man who was smiling bashfully. "You must be Martin," Hermione said, ushering them inside.

"A pleasure to meet you," he said, shaking her hand.

"Ginny! Merry Christmas!" Ginny and Martin were pulled into the throng in the living room. Hermione poured herself a cup of hot wassail and went to sit next to Ron. They had come to a silent agreement to forget about their fight for the duration of the holiday. Although unspoken words still hovered between them, Hermione was happy to settle back with Ron's arm around her shoulders.

A pleasant hum of chatter filled the room. Fleur was reciting the names of her cousins to Charlie and trying to convince him to take one out on a date. Percy was reading the Daily Prophet in the corner, a righteous expression on his face, while the twins could be heard tormenting Mrs. Weasley in the kitchen. Ginny was talking quietly to Martin in front of the fireplace, her hand entwined with his. The doorbell rang again. "I'll get it," Hermione started to say, leaping up, but Ginny got there first.

Harry stood outside on the threshold. His arm was around Draco. He looked nervous, but determined. Draco was holding a poinsettia and looked like he would rather be anywhere but the Burrow.

"Harry, dear, is that you?" Mrs. Weasley called, and then she appeared from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron. "Well let them in, Ginny, for heaven's sake. You're letting in all the cold air." She went right to Harry and gave him a hug. "It's so wonderful to see you, Harry."

"You too, Mrs. Weasley," Harry replied, hugging her back.

Mrs. Weasley finally let Harry go and turned towards Draco, who appeared to be seriously considering bolting back out the door. Mrs. Weasley hesitated, but then smiled. "What a lovely plant," she said, taking the poinsettia from Draco. "How thoughtful of you."

Mr. Weasley had stepped up next to her. "Good to see you, Harry." He shook Harry's hand. "Mr. Malfoy," he said, holding out his hand to Draco.

"You look cold, dear," Mrs. Weasley said to Draco. "Can I get you something hot to drink?"

"Uh, no, I'm fine," Draco said, looking surprised.

"All right, but I want your first Christmas with us to be a lovely one, so just tell me if there's anything you need."

"Thanks, Mrs. Weasley," Harry said, steering a stunned Draco further into the room.

Hermione went up to them. "Thanks for Quidditch Through the Ages, Harry. Ron thought you'd gotten our packages mixed up."

"She's read the whole thing already, of course," Ron put in, grinning.

Hermione saw that Ginny was standing over by the window, staring outside, so she beckoned Martin over. "Harry, Draco, this is Martin. He works as a photographer at the Daily Prophet."

Harry grinned, shaking his hand. Draco managed a polite smile. Martin blushed and stammered out a Merry Christmas, clearly overwhelmed at meeting Harry Potter.

"The whole gang has arrived now, Mum," Fred said. "Can we please eat? She kept threatening to hex us if we touched anything before you got here," he muttered to Harry.

"It's only polite, Fred," Mrs. Weasley said sternly.

"I can't be polite when I'm starving, Mum!"

"Oh, really," Mrs. Weasley huffed, but she smiled and waved her wand. Steaming platters and bowls began drifting in from the kitchen to settle on the long table that had been set up in the living room.

Hermione took a seat beside Draco, who looked pale. "You're doing fine," Hermione whispered to him.

Mrs. Weasley was heaping food onto Harry's plate. "I'm glad to see that you're looking well fed and healthy for once, Harry," she said, giving Draco a warm look. Clearly Mrs. Weasley could find it in her heart to love anyone who took away the perpetually underfed and worried manner that had plagued Harry for so long. "But that doesn't mean I don't want you to eat plenty while you're here."

"Fine by me, Mrs. Weasley," Harry said. "See, I told you it was delicious," he added to Draco, who nodded enthusiastically, his mouth full. Mrs. Weasley blushed with pleasure.

Percy, sitting across from them, immediately engaged Draco in a conversation about Gringotts - asking about various assistant managers, and then smugly letting it slip that he had met them at some political affair or other. Harry ruthlessly left Draco to his fate and began talking dragons with Charlie.

Ginny, though - Hermione suppressed a sigh. She was toying with the food on her plate and kept shooting glances at Draco and Harry. Luckily, Fred and George were discussing some new Wizard Wheeze that involved photography with Martin, and he hadn't noticed.

Dinner broke up into a snowball fight outside. It was exhilarating out in the cold air, shrieking and laughing. Hermione aimed a careful throw at Charlie, catching him in the ear, only to be showered with cold snow herself and hear a triumphant shout from Fred. Harry had cajoled Draco to join them, and slowly he got into the spirit of the thing, too, especially when Harry thrust a handful of snow down the back of his shirt. Draco gave an outraged shout and seconds later had Harry down on the ground in a headlock. "You're supposed to be throwing snow at the other team," Ron shouted, dragging them apart.

They went back inside for dessert, and sat around reminiscing about past Christmases.

"Flitwick always did the best decorations, of course," Bill was saying.

"Didn't he charm the suits of armor to sing one year?"

"And Peeves hid in them, filling in the blanks with bawdy lyrics."

"And the ghosts would go caroling in the middle of the night. Creepy that."

Both Draco and Harry blushed at the mention of caroling. Hermione decided she didn't want to know why.

"I wonder how Nick is doing?" Harry said, but Hermione noticed that he had a very thoughtful look on his face. She caught his eye, and he motioned to her to come into the kitchen with him.

"What is it?" she asked, after closing the door behind them.

"Slytherin, what else?" Harry said ruefully. "It was the mention of ghosts that got me thinking. Ghosts can't do magic, right? Even though they were once wizards or witches? What if the reason we haven't seen any sign of Slytherin is because he can't do magic either?"

Hermione considered. "From what I've read about ghosts, they sacrificed their true selves - which would include their magic - to stay in this world. It would make sense that Slytherin would have to do something of the same sort."

"Although," Harry went on, frowning, "if that's the case, why would he bother to come back in the first place? If he couldn't use his magic?"

Hermione seated herself on the counter. "Well, we know he isn't actually a ghost, even if the basic principle is the same. He is corporeal. Maybe bringing his body through was all he could manage this first time - "

"But there's a way for him to bring his magic back, too," Harry finished.

The door opened and Draco appeared, followed closely by Ron. "What are you two doing hiding in here?" Ron asked.

"We've been talking about Slytherin," Hermione said.

"At least the fact that you two are always off hunting Dark wizards means Draco and I will never have to worry you might be having an affair." Ron chortled.

"Oh, honestly, Ron," Hermione said, but she couldn't help giggling, too.

Harry smiled, but then his expression turned serious again. "We think Slytherin might not have any magical powers - that's why he hasn't done anything," he explained.

Draco frowned. "And yet I get the feeling this is not entirely a good thing."

"Well, he must know of a way to get his magic," Hermione said. "Otherwise there would be no point."

"If we can find out how he's going to do it, we could stop him, right?" Ron asked.

"You'd think," Harry said. "Of course that's what I thought before, but he was already a step ahead of us," he added bitterly.

"Plus there's the small problem of actually figuring out what he's planning," Draco said.

A glum silence settled on them for a few moments. "I think we should go back to Uffington," Hermione finally said. "See if there's anything there that we missed. Don't you think, Harry?"

Harry nodded. "Ron, I know you've been trying, but if there's any sources at the Ministry that you haven't contacted, anything at all..."

"Yeah, I'll try. Maybe I should spring it on Nott at our next little conference. It might shock him out of that bloody smug attitude."

"Nott?" Draco said sharply.

"Possible connection to a murder," Ron explained. "You wouldn't happen to know what he's been up to since Hogwarts, would you? I know he was in your House."

Draco looked at Harry, shook his head. "No. I don't know."

v.v.v.v.v.v.

Christmas slowly wound down - Sophie had fallen asleep in Bill's arms, still clutching a new toy she had gotten. Hermione went to the bedroom to get her and Ron's cloaks, but stopped in the hallway when she heard voices.

"Is it because Draco's a guy or because he's a Malfoy?" Harry was saying in a cold tone.

"Neither," Ginny answered, her voice choked with tears.

"Then what? What is it?"

"It wasn't supposed to be this way, that's what."

Harry was silent for a few moments. "I never even used to imagine a future for myself," he finally said. "Even after Voldemort was gone. But then I met Draco and now - now I have one. I have a future with him. What we had was wonderful, Ginny, but it didn't work out."

"It could have."

"Maybe." Harry paused. "But then I would have lost Draco. Ginny, without him, I -"

Hermione leapt back as the door burst open and Ginny stormed out. Harry appeared a few seconds later, but neither noticed Hermione, standing in a shadowed corner. Feeling guilty for listening, she quickly put on her cloak and took Ron's out to him. An icy silence settled over them again as they left the Burrow behind, Christmas lights twinkling against the snow.

v.v.v.v.v.v.

One of the best things about holidays was the large amount of leftovers, Ron decided. He settled back in his chair, turkey sandwich in hand, and ignored the stack of paperwork he was supposed to be finishing. It had been great to be at the Burrow, but difficult, too. Every time he saw Sophie with Bill and Fleur, he would feel a surge of jealousy. Then he would look at Hermione, who would promptly look away. It was becoming harder and harder to break their routine of silence and ignoring each other. And now he was becoming scared of what would happen if they did. What if when they started talking about it, they found they didn't have a future together? That maybe they shouldn't have rushed to get married so soon after Hogwarts? Just thinking about it made Ron feel sick.

So it wasn't really his fault that he lost his temper when, a few days after New Years, he met Hermione coming out of a café in Diagon Alley with another guy. Oh wait, that's right, a friend.

Hermione stopped short when she saw him. "Ron. Hi. This is Geoffrey." Geoffrey extended his hand, a warm smile on his face.

Ron returned the handshake, gripping perhaps a bit tighter than necessary. "Ron Weasley. I'm Hermione's husband. And an Auror."

"Glad to meet you," Geoffrey said. "Well, I'm afraid I have to get going. See you soon, Hermione."

Wait a second. See you soon? "So, is this a regular thing with you and Geoffrey?" he growled as the prat walked off down the street.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "No. We see each other in the library a lot and today he asked me if I wanted to grab a bite to eat."

"And you agreed."

"Yes. What, am I not allowed to have any male friends besides Harry?"

"Of course you are, but -"

"Because that's all Geoffrey is - a friend."

"Then why didn't you tell me about him before?"

"I haven't known him that long, Ron, and - " Hermione stopped, shook her head. "I don't need to explain myself to you. I have to get back to work."

"Weasley. Weasley!"

Ron jolted out of his reverie to find Robards glaring down at him. "Sir?"

"There's been another murder."

v.v.v.v.v.v.

It was exactly like Eric Ives. No marks on the body, no sign of a spell - nothing. This time, the victim was a witch named Nora Banks. She had been a year younger than him, and had been in Ravenclaw. There was no record of prior arrests. Ron could already see another dead end approaching when he read that she had worked for Gladrags, and one of her coworkers was Pansy Parkinson. He flooed directly to the store.

"We were friends," Pansy confirmed, bending down to stick some pins into the hem of a robe which was draped over a mannequin. "Went to the cinema, shopping."

"Can you think of any enemies she might have had? Anyone who might have wanted to hurt her?"

Pansy shook her head, staring at the mannequin with a critical eye.

"Did she have other friends? A boyfriend?"

"She was seeing Theodore Nott the last I heard."

Bingo. "Nott, huh?"

"Yep. I told her he was good for nothing, but she ignored me."

"What do you mean?" Ron asked, agreeing silently, but fervently, with Pansy's assessment.

Pansy turned to face him. "Do you think I'm stupid, Weasley?" she asked, jabbing a pin in his direction. Ron took a few prudent steps back. "Draco, Crabbe, Goyle, they all got caught up in it and look where it got them. Thankfully my parents weren't too deeply involved, and as long as I distance myself from them, the Ministry leaves me alone. I have a job, a home, a nice boyfriend. Do you think I'm going to screw that up? Nott, though, he wants to start the whole thing up again. When I got his letter, I sent him back a short, but succinct reply along the lines of 'Fuck you.'"

"Letter?"

"Yeah. Asking me if I wanted to join in some project of his. I wasn't the only one he contacted, either. Marcus, Montague, Draco - he wrote to all of them, too."

"Malfoy? You sure?"

"Yes." Pansy sneered at him. "But Draco is Potter's little slut now, isn't he? No way would he join Nott."

"Keep your filthy mouth shut," Ron growled. "You don't know the first thing about it."

Pansy's eyes flashed, but she turned her attention back to the robe, sticking in another pin. "Anyway, that's all there is. I told Nora she should leave Nott alone, but she didn't."

Ron restrained himself from uttering a few choice, but un-professional comments. "I'll send you an owl if I have further questions," he told her. Pansy ignored him. The joys of dealing with old classmates.

Ron decided to walk back to the Ministry to give himself a chance to think. If he went and saw Nott now, Ron knew he would just be given some bullshit story. Nott would pretend to be all broken up about Nora, and he would probably have another perfect alibi, too. What he needed was someone who could match the devious bastard lie for lie. Someone who was used to underhanded trickery. In short, Draco. If Pansy was right, and Nott had sent Draco a letter, too, it would give him the perfect opening to get close to Nott. Ron would just have to swallow his pride and ask Draco for help.