The Scent of Lightning

Chapter Six

"Obviously, the Horse comes to life half-way between the vernal equinox and the summer solstice, which would be right about May fifth." Hermione was bent close to the pages of the old book they had purchased in Uffington. They had Apparated back to Harry's house after leaving the bookstore and were now sitting at the table, books and parchment piled about.

"It's so weird to find something that belonged to a witch in a Muggle bookseller's," Harry said, craning his head to look at the spidery writing which lined the pages.

"It looks like her hobby was investigating Muggle legends and seeing if they had any basis in magical fact." Hermione waved a hand. "But accidental interactions between the magical and Muggle world is not the issue here."

"Too bad she couldn't have been a bit more explicit - that whole part about the Mount and the Candle...." Harry shrugged.

"Read that book about ley lines like you're supposed to be doing and maybe you can make some sense of it," Hermione told him with an irritated glare.

Harry grimaced and went back to his appointed task. "I think I've figured out the Mount part," he said after a few minutes of reading. "This St. Michael's ley line starts at St. Michael's Mount. It's that tiny rocky island near Cornwall with a chapel and a castle built on it. I didn't think of it at first, but I've seen pictures of it a few times."

Hermione made a note on the parchment next to her. "The passage clearly says, though, that the words the Smith speaks - that must be a spell of some sort - aren't at the Mount, but at the Candle. So find out what that is."

"Yes, professor," Harry muttered, low enough that Hermione didn't hear.

Sighing, he peered at the small text. A headache had been creeping up on him all afternoon and it was now pounding behind his temples. The nausea had returned, too, after that last Apparition. He forced his concentration onto what he was reading.

Ley lines, discovered in the 1920s, are purportedly lines of magnetic force running over the earth. They were first observed in England when it was noted that many ancient sites could be connected by a straight line.

Harry looked at the map on the next page. It depicted the St. Michael's ley line running through Britain. An ambitious soul had even extended it to reach the Great Pyramids in Egypt. The lines merged together as he stared at it. He rubbed his eyes.

"Are you okay?" Hermione asked, looking up.

"I'm fine," Harry said shortly. He read a few more paragraphs. "It says here that places like St. Michael's Mount were built on areas where the magnetic forces of the earth are powerful and harmonious."

"Like Feng shui," Hermione said. "One of my uncles was very into it. He remodeled the entire front of his house to get the door facing in the right direction."

"Did he do anything with candles, too?" Harry asked hopefully.

Hermione shook her head, and Harry lapsed back into gloom. "Well, there's nothing about candles here."

"You've hardly read the first three pages," Hermione pointed out. "If the Mount is a location, then it would make sense that the Candle is a location, too."

Harry looked back at the map. "The second spot on this ley line is St. Michael's Church at Brentor. Doesn't mention it in the text, though."

Hermione gave an exasperated sigh. "Look it up in the index, then. The book doesn't end on that page."

Reminded of why he had always hated homework, Harry looked at the index, and then flipped through the book until he found the specified page. There was a photo of a small church up on a rocky hill. After reading what it said, a grin spread over his face. "Okay, listen to this: Once there was a wealthy merchant sailing along the coast. There was a beacon lit on top of Brentor to warn ships of the rocky shoals. Unfortunately for the merchant, the Devil had blown out the beacon and sent a storm to wreck his ship."

Hermione cleared her throat. "Fascinating story, but what does this have to do with anything?"

Harry gave her a quelling look. "You'll find out in a second," he said, and Hermione subsided, muttering. "Anyway, the merchant prayed to St. Michael to help him. He vowed that if St. Michael saved him from death, he would build a church on the first land he saw. St. Michael fought the Devil and won."

"And the first land the merchant saw was Brentor where he built the church," Hermione finished.

Harry gave her a glare. "If you would let me get to my point - "

"Which is?"

"That the church is sometimes called "The Candle" in memory of the beacon that used to shine there."

Hermione banged her hand on the table. "That's it, then!" She scribbled quickly on the parchment. "The spell must be hidden somewhere in this church on Brentor. We'll have to go out and take a look around."

Harry shifted in his chair. That meant he would have to ask Oliver for more time off, which he did not want to do, especially with the way he had been flying. Anyway, it wasn't fair that he should have to give up Quidditch. "Would you mind going without me?" he asked Hermione. "I know it's important, but I really need to focus on our upcoming Quidditch match with the Magpies."

Hermione gave him a sympathetic smile. "Of course I don't mind. You've been a tremendous help already, Harry. I'll be fine."

Harry nodded. He could already feel the guilt beginning to gnaw at him, though.

Hermione caught his mood. "You need to practice, Harry," she said. "Think of what Ron will be like if the Cannons don't win. There'll be no living with him."

"Right." Harry smiled. "It's just - " he paused. He had heard a noise in the other room.

"That must be Draco," Hermione said. She stood, gathering up the books. "I think I'll head home now, Harry."

"You don't have to," Harry said quickly. "Stay for dinner if you want." He cast an uneasy glance at the door. If Hermione left he wouldn't be able to put off facing Draco.

Hermione gave him a look. "When was the last time either of you went grocery shopping?"

"Uh...Last week, maybe?"

"And what were you planning on feeding me?"

"Um..."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I'll take my chances at home, thanks." She put her hand on his arm. "Harry, don't worry about this okay? I'll do some more reading, go out to Brentor and see what I can find out."

Don't worry - small chance of that happening. He managed a smile, though. "Okay. Thanks."

"Of course. And whatever is going on between you and Draco - don't let it fester. It's like what we talked about today - it just makes things worse."

Too bad Hermione was always right.

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

Draco heard voices when he opened the door, and a minute later Hermione came out of the kitchen, carrying a pile of books.

"More on Slytherin?" he asked.

"Yes. I'll let Harry explain, though, I need to get going. Have a good night." Hermione stepped out the door, and Draco watched through the window as she walked down the path in the fading sunlight and then Disapparated as soon as the wards stopped. He knew that Harry was standing behind him in the kitchen doorway, and didn't want to turn around and face him.

At first, Draco had felt guilty that he hadn't told Harry about the letter. Well, he had felt guilty since he had received it, actually. But after what Harry had said to him last night, he now felt a good deal of anger as well. He had been trying to apologize, to show Harry that he was sorry, and Harry had thrown it back in his face.

"Are you going to stare out the window all night?"

Draco turned around. "I might. What do you care?"

Harry's eyes flashed. "I don't."

"Well good. That makes two of us." He tried to brush past Harry, but Harry stopped him with a hand on his arm.

"Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you trust me?"

Draco didn't want to vocalize his inner struggle, didn't want to admit how weak he was, but he made himself speak. "Because you were right. I did want to say yes."

"But you didn't."

"That fact didn't seem to matter to you before," Draco shot back.

"I know." Harry sighed. "I'm sorry about what I said. I didn't mean it."

"No." Draco turned towards the dark window; saw his reflection looking back at him. "You should be disgusted with me."

"But I'm not! I could never - "

"I want it back," Draco said, interrupting. "Not the Dark Arts, but the money, the influence, the power."

"But why?" Harry rested his fingers lightly on Draco's cheek. "I don't mind if you don't have any of that. I love you."

"It's not you. It's everyone else."

"They don't matter."

"It's not that easy!" He stepped away from Harry, anger flaring up again. "Maybe you can ignore what people say about you, but I can't! Every day someone humiliates me, Harry. Every day someone reminds me that I'm nothing. And I want it to stop!"

"Then don't go back to Gringotts," Harry said quickly. "You don't have to work there -"

"I have to do something and that's the only thing I can do."

"You don't know that. We could look for something else, something you enjoyed."

"I've looked. There's nothing for someone like me."

Harry grabbed his arm again, harder this time. "Don't say things like that! You can't let these people make you believe that about yourself. Remember the shadows? How they hurt you?"

Draco nodded reluctantly.

"Well these people are just like the shadows. You can't let what they say get to you."

"How? Tell me how I can make myself immune to it, then, because I'm damned if I know what to do."

Harry sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Realise that it isn't worth getting upset about the opinions of people like that? Realise that this is your life and you shouldn't spend it being miserable?" He gave Draco a half-hearted smile. "I'm still working on it myself, actually."

"Yeah, well, acquaintances like Nott don't help the cause of self-enlightenment," Draco said bitterly. "And now I'm going to be having tea with him."

"You're up to the challenge," Harry murmured, wrapping his arms around Draco's neck.

Draco didn't know if he agreed with that or not, but he said "Yes," anyway and then bent to kiss Harry.

Harry flinched away from him.

Draco jolted back, the hurt and anger returning. "What -"

"I'm sorry," Harry whispered. "I haven't been feeling well today, and it just reminded me..." he trailed off into silence.

Reminded you of what? Of me pointing my wand at Dumbledore? Of the snake and skull on my arm? "It doesn't matter," Draco said stiffly.

Miserable green eyes looked up at him. "It's not you," Harry said. They stood silently for a few moments. Harry moved closer, then, and gently pressed his lips against Draco's.

Relief rushed through Draco. He should pursue this, find out what was upsetting Harry, but it was too wonderful to put his arms around him and forget about everything else.

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

Ron studied the reports in front of him, chewing absently on his quill. The good news was that Goyle looked to be just as dull and unimaginative as an adult as he had been as a child. That fact was going to allow Ron to spirit him away for a while so he could protect Draco. Protect. Ron snorted. Malfoy was only insisting on this to make his life difficult.

Goyle, according to his file, had been given a Muggle identity after getting out of Azkaban and was now working as a doorman at some posh hotel in downtown London. Ron looked at the data from the tracking spell that the Ministry had placed on him. Every Monday through Friday, without fail, Goyle got up, went to work for eight hours, then went home. On Saturday, he went to the grocers and to a local bar for a few hours in the evening. On Sunday, he stayed home. The pattern never varied.

That meant it should be fairly easy to substitute a bogus tracking spell for a short time. Make it look like Goyle was just following his normal routine when really, he wouldn't be there at all. It wouldn't work forever, of course, but hopefully long enough to mollify Draco.

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

It was sleeting when Ron went outside - a nasty, cold day. He pulled up the hood of his sweatshirt and made a mental note to get a Muggle winter coat for the next time he had to do a bit of blending in. He made his way to the hotel where Goyle worked and took up position in front of a shop window across the way. Even with a Glamour, Goyle was easy to spot; there was no mistaking that hulking form for anyone else. Goyle was dressed in the hotel uniform and at the moment was holding the door open for a well-dressed woman with about seven suitcases. Ron shook his head. Imagine that - Goyle actually capable of doing a job.

"Ron? Is that you?"

Ron jumped at the sound of his name and turned around quickly, one hand darting towards his wand. Then he saw who it was, and let his hand drop. "Ginny? What are you doing here?"

Ginny rolled her eyes. "I live about three blocks from here, Ron."

"Oh, right. So, you want to get something to eat? My treat." Ron didn't want to give her the chance to ask what he was doing in the neighbourhood. The less people who knew about this whole thing with Malfoy, the better.

Ginny gave him a look, but nodded her head. "Sure. There's a nice place just around the corner."

"How are things going, then?" Ron asked, once they were seated.

Ginny shrugged. "Okay. You?"

"Okay." Silence fell. Ron's mind had wandered off to determining how he would need to alter the tracking spell, when he realised Ginny had started talking again and had said Malfoy's name.

"What? Sorry, wasn't listening there."

"I said are you sure Malfoy has really turned away from the Dark Arts? At Christmas - he seemed a little too...nice."

"Oh, he was just on his best behaviour then. Trust me, he's still an annoying prat most of the time." Whose help I unfortunately need, Ron added silently to himself.

"But the Dark Arts?" Ginny persisted.

Ron paused, taking a good look at Ginny's face. There was a hopeful look in her eye that he hated to quench. "He's renounced them."

"You're sure?"

"Yes."

"And Harry - ?"

"Loves him. And Draco loves Harry. And they're happy together." Ron shook his head. "I know it's weird, Ginny, but it's the truth."

"But it isn't..." she trailed off.

"Isn't what you thought would happen?" Ron finished, and she nodded. He sighed. "I know, but it did and there you are."

"Oh come on, Ron. Don't tell me you're happy that Draco Malfoy is shagging your best friend!"

Ron leaned back in his chair. "Maybe I'm not, but I'm not going to say that to Harry. And don't you go saying it either." Ginny blushed, and he scowled. "Just leave it alone, can't you?"

"How?" Tears trickled down Ginny's cheeks. "How can I just leave it alone when I love him?"

"Do you?" Ron asked her quietly. "Would you really want to spend the rest of your life with Harry? With this Harry - not the guy who was your boyfriend back at Hogwarts."

Ginny was silent. Ron reached across the table and squeezed her hand. "Martin seems like a really nice guy, Ginny. Just because it wasn't Harry doesn't mean you won't find someone else."

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

Draco Apparated into work on Monday with a new mantra - don't let the bastards get to you. It didn't quite seem to get at the whole "joy of life" part that Harry had mentioned, but it would have to do for now. To be fair, he had managed to be a little more cheerful than usual to Harry that morning. Normally, monosyllabic responses were all that he could manage when he first got up, but he had gotten out one whole sentence and even made coffee. Harry had looked startled, which was better than pale and tired like he had looked all weekend. Harry said he was fine, though, when Draco asked. Just rough Quidditch practices. Their game against the Magpies was the second of February, this coming Saturday.

Harry had filled him in about what they thought was happening with Slytherin. It sounded like Slytherin was just laying low until May when he would try to bring his powers through. Hopefully, they would figure out how to stop him by then.

Don't let the bastards get to you. Draco plastered a smile on his face and greeted his first client.

By the end of the day, he was badly in need of a Firewhiskey. The mantra had worked for about fifteen minutes. Then the client had mentioned casually how disappointed Draco's father would be if he could see him now. Not in so many words, of course, but Draco got the point. He tried to tell himself that it didn't matter, but it did. Here he was, scrabbling around in the scraps that the wizarding world deigned to cast his way, trying to be the powerful, rich man his father had been. It was pitiful. The day went downhill from there.

Just as it was time to leave, an owl tapped on his window. Growling, Draco ripped the parchment from its leg.

Draco,

I've located your friend. Come meet me at the Bat and we'll go pick him up.

R.W.

Draco's stomach jolted. He hadn't expected Ron to find Greg so quickly. In fact, he had hoped it would take Ron a long time to figure out how to free Greg from the Ministry's clutches. He preferred consigning the day he would have to meet Nott to the indefinite future.

Draco knew Nott would be impressed if it looked like he had managed to free Greg from the Ministry. But that was only part of the reason he had asked Ron to find him. He also truly wanted to see Greg again. He missed him. Missed the only friends he had ever had. But did Greg want to see him? After all, it was Draco's fault that Greg had gone to Azkaban. Draco's fault that both he and Vincent had taken the Mark. They had only done it because Draco had.

Trying to calm his jumping stomach, Draco put on his cloak and hurried out into Diagon Alley. The Hanging Bat wasn't too far away. It was crowded with just-off-work wizards and witches. He spotted Ron's red hair through the throng and went over.

"Have a seat," Ron said. Leaning closer, he lowered his voice. "I found Goyle. He's working as a doorman at a Muggle hotel."

"A doorman?" Draco blinked, trying to picture Greg in one of those ridiculous hats Muggles wore.

"Yeah. Now, I figured out a way to alter the tracking spell so that it will make it look like Goyle is following his usual routine even if he isn't there. It should give him the opportunity to slip away with you to visit Nott without anyone being the wiser. I thought we'd go and explain the situation to him. I'll teach you the spell, too so that you can do it when you're ready to go see Nott." Ron glared at him. "I'm sure I don't need to remind you of how illegal and dangerous this whole thing is. If either of us gets caught - "

"I know, I know. I'll be careful."

"Right." Ron gave him a final stern look. "Ready to go then? Goyle should be off work now and back in his flat."

They had to take the Muggle Underground to get there. Draco stifled a snigger when Ron got caught in the revolving metal spokes you had to pass through, although his mirth was dampened moments later as he tripped coming off an odd moving staircase. Nothing like the ones at Hogwarts, and Draco knew which ones he preferred.

So they were both looking a bit disgruntled when they showed up at Greg's flat. It was in a shabby building, trash overflowing in the rubbish bins in the alley, and Draco felt a pang of guilt. His fault.

"You coming?" Ron asked as Draco hesitated at the bottom of the stairs.

"Yes." Draco climbed up to stand next to Ron. A row of buttons on a wall carried the names of the building's tenants.

"That's him," Ron said, pointing to the name Bruce Cooper. "You have to press the button."

"I know that," Draco hissed at him. He jabbed at the button and there was a buzzing noise. They stood waiting for a minute or so. Draco sighed and pressed it again. After all, this was Greg.

This time a voice answered. "Who is it?"

"It's me. Draco."

Silence. Then, "Come on up."

There was a click, and Ron opened the door. Greg's room was on the second floor, and Ron stopped when they got there, looking at him expectantly. Draco raised his arm, which felt like it weighed about twenty pounds, and knocked.

He had forgotten that Greg would be under a Glamour, and was shocked when a man with blond hair answered the door. But then Ron waved his wand and Greg's features melted into the familiar face. "Hi, Draco," Greg said, and motioned for them to come in.

There was a T.V. in the living room, and a large collection of empty beer bottles. Draco sat down on the sagging couch. Ron was already talking, explaining to Greg what they were doing there. Ron kept going back and repeating points, clearly doubting Greg's ability to pick up on what was going on.

"So Draco here has agreed to go spy on him, and - "

"I need your help," Draco interrupted. He looked up at Greg.

The confusion which had been clouding Greg's features cleared. He smiled. "Sure." Ron let out an exasperated snort.

"Thanks," Draco said, and Greg nodded. "So, are you...doing okay?"

Greg looked around the dingy room. He looked back at Draco. "I'm great," he replied quietly. "It's good to see you again."

Draco swallowed hard. He tried to smile. "This will be just like old times. And after - I'll try to get the Ministry to give your wand back, let you come out of hiding." Greg didn't say anything. "If - if you want to," Draco added quickly.

"I don't mind being a Muggle, really," Greg said. "They're not so bad."

Draco heard the unspoken words. If Greg came back, he would be in the same situation Draco was - hated, struggling to find a job. "Well, think about it," he said.

Ron broke in then and showed Draco how to perform the alterations on the tracking spell. Draco told Greg he would be back as soon as he got a meeting set up with Nott. And then he and Ron were back out on the pavement.

"Weird to see just the two of you sitting there," Ron muttered.

It would have been odd, Draco silently agreed, if Vince hadn't been there, too, an unacknowledged, but unforgotten ghost.

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

Draco couldn't go right home after seeing Greg. Instead, he Apparated to a Muggle park. He often came here after a hard day, or when he was missing his parents, or when he just wanted to be by himself for awhile. He was anonymous here in the Muggle world, and no one would bother him, exactly like Greg had said.

There was another reason he came to this specific spot, though. This was where he and Harry had wandered to on that morning when Harry had kissed him for the first time. Draco sat down on a bench and stared into the darkness, remembering every moment. The look of surprise in Harry's green eyes, the flush suffusing his cheeks. Draco's heart had been pounding so hard, but he had pulled Harry to him, kissed him back.

That was why Draco would never stay in the Muggle world. Never try to find anonymity and peace in a place where no one recognized him. Because that would mean leaving Harry, and he would never do that. If Greg had someone waiting for him in the magical world, he would go back, too. But Greg had no one except him - a friend who hadn't been much of one.

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

Harry was already in bed when he got home. Draco crawled in next to him, shivering from being out in the cold so long. Harry's warm arms wrapped around him.

"Where have you been?" Harry murmured. "I was starting to get worried."

"Visiting Greg. Weasley found a way he can help me without the Ministry figuring out."

Harry was silent for a few moments. "And how was it?" he finally asked in a quiet voice.

"Hard." His voice sounded brittle, too loud in the soft darkness. "It's my fault he has the Mark. My fault he has to live in the Muggle world. He should have yelled at me, hit me. But all he did was smile and say that he would help."

Harry smoothed Draco's hair away from his face. "Don't blame yourself."

Draco turned in Harry's arms, pressed his face against Harry's shoulder. He wanted to tell Harry how glad, how thankful he was to have him, to not be alone anymore. But his throat was too tight, so instead he just held Harry close.