The Scent of Lightning

Chapter Eight

It was almost a relief to find the owl waiting for him at Gringotts the next day. Draco couldn't stop thinking about Harry, and thought he might go mad if he didn't find something to distract himself. He remembered what it had been like to not be able to use his magic. But at least it had still been with him - if Harry lost all of his magic... He unfurled the parchment and read it. Nott would meet him Wednesday evening.

Unfortunately, this just gave him something else to obsess over. Soon he was imagining potential conversations with Nott, all of which inevitably led to Draco falling apart and confessing that he was there spying for the Aurors. By the end of the day he was a nervous wreck and took out his stress on a few small children noisily chattering in the lobby. No wonder Snape had always been such a bastard.

Harry was stretched out on the couch reading when he got home. He had wanted to go rushing off to Brentor immediately, but Granger had insisted that he rest for a few days. He looked a little pale, but otherwise healthy. It was hard to believe that he wasn't. The question of how Harry would regain his lost magic even if they did defeat Slytherin had also been plaguing Draco.

"What is it?" Harry asked, sensing his foul mood.

Draco looked down at Harry, and a lump rose in his throat. He swallowed. "I'm going to meet Nott on Wednesday evening."

Harry nodded. "You'll be fine."

"What if I'm not?" Draco began pacing around the room. "What if I blow the whole thing the minute I get in the door?"

Harry reached out for his hand, and Draco allowed himself to be pulled down next to him. "You won't." Harry smiled. "You made me fall in love with you, after all. That had to have taken quite a bit of intelligence and quick thinking."

"Are you implying that I somehow tricked you into this whole thing?" Draco inquired, wriggling on the couch so that he was lying next to Harry.

"Well, I have wondered sometimes," Harry began, grinning. "I don't know how else you would explain it."

Draco hit him with a pillow. "There's my stunning good looks, for one."

"Oh, right." Laughing, Harry got him into a headlock. "Forgot about those."

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

Wednesday evening found Draco standing outside Greg's door, clutching his wand in one hand. Greg let him inside with a grunted hello. "Stand still," Draco snapped. "I have to alter the tracking spell."

Greg obediently held his place while Draco waved his wand and muttered the spell Weasley had given him. He should have tested the bloody thing before tonight, see if it worked. What the hell had he been thinking? "Nott's expecting us at six thirty, so we better get moving. The idiot apparently isn't connected to the Floo network - a 'security risk' he called it." Draco snorted. "As though a contingent of Aurors is going to come tumbling out of his bloody fireplace. Anyway, we'll have to take the Knight Bus." He didn't think he could manage side-along Apparition with someone of Greg's size.

"Okay," Greg said. "They might have hot chocolate."

"This isn't a bloody field trip." Draco gave him an irritated glare.

"Right. Sorry." Greg looked down at his faded pair of sneakers.

Your fault. "I'm just a little tense," Draco muttered.

Greg clapped him on the shoulder, causing Draco to stagger into the wall. "Ready?" Greg asked.

"Ready." Draco took a deep breath and led the way out the door.

The Knight Bus arrived in all its hideous purple glory. Draco gave them Nott's address, paid for the tickets, and added the extra Knut for hot chocolate. Greg sipped his contentedly as they hurtled through the city. Draco tried not to throw up.

Nott lived in a large house which looked like it had been cobbled together by an architect who had been Obliviated one time too many. Huge columns surrounded the front doorway. Gargoyles looked down at them from contorted positions on the roof. A half-finished turret jutted up from the western end of the roof. Draco thought of the elegance of the Manor - stained glass windows, elegant woodwork - all ruined now.

"This looks ridiculous. Ostentatious," he said past the lump in his throat. Greg nodded in agreement next to him. Draco lifted the doorknocker, embossed with the Nott family crest - two ravens in flight surrounded by thorns. He half expected a house-elf to answer the door, but it was Nott himself who opened it.

"Draco, I'm so glad you were able to come," Nott said smoothly, ushering them inside. "And who is this?" He looked at Greg, frowning.

Draco had purposefully left Greg's Glamour in place until just this moment. He waved his wand. Nott started back in surprise. "Goyle!"

"Correct," Draco said. "I brought him along for a little company. The Knight Bus can be so dull." And that statement is the first lie of the evening.

Nott's eyes narrowed. "The Ministry was keeping a tight watch over him, last I heard."

"They were," Draco replied, stressing the past tense. "But I found myself missing his stimulating conversation." He laughed in a sneering tone, and Nott joined in after a moment. I'm sorry, Greg.

"Well, I'm glad to see you, Goyle," Nott continued, leading them into a small study. He poured three glasses of wine and handed them around. "Not that you really needed to come. I assure you, Draco will come to no harm while he is with me."

I'm sure. Draco inclined his head and lifted his glass. "To old friends," he said. "Present company and those no longer with us." He sipped his wine. Cheap vintage.

Nott took a sip as well, while Greg drained the entire glass. Nott pushed the bottle Greg's way and leaned forward. "I must admit that I'm surprised to see you, though, Draco. When I didn't hear from you, I assumed you were not interested."

Draco took another sip. "My position is delicate. It took some time for me to set certain suspicions to rest."

Nott laughed and gave him a wink. "Not an entirely odious process, I'm sure. I always thought Potter looked like a delicious fuck. Perhaps you'll let me try him sometime."

Draco gripped the sides of his chair. Say something! Play along! part of him was yelling. I can't! Not about Harry.

"I don't think that's any of your business," Greg growled, leaning forward. His chair creaked ominously.

Nott gave Greg's bulging muscles a nervous glance, shrugged. "Whatever. I'm not here to discuss your sex life, anyway."

"What are we here for then?" Draco asked, unclenching his hands. "Hopefully something more enticing than this disgusting swill." He gave the wine a disparaging glance.

"Oh, I think so." Nott smiled thinly. "You understand I can't give you all the details now. I need to receive some assurances of your commitment first."

"Of course." Draco set his glass down. "You cannot expect me, however, to blindly follow you without something more concrete than the vague allusions you have made so far."

Nott gave an elaborate sigh. "I really don't see how I can. Secrecy and discretion are of the highest importance."

"Try."

"What more information do you require?" Nott scowled. "I've made it clear that I, and others, such as yourself, are dissatisfied with the current direction the Ministry is taking. Purebloods are being cast aside in favor of half-breeds, Mudbloods, and vermin. I want to do something about it."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Noble aspirations to be sure, but if that's all you have I think I'll be leaving." He stood up. "Come on, Goyle."

"Wait." Nott stood up, too, went over to a chest resting against the wall. He took out his wand and bent over it, muttering a spell too low for Draco to catch. The chest sprang open and Nott took out a bag. He dropped it on the table. "Does this persuade you?"

Draco reached out and opened the bag. Galleons glinted up at him. "Where did you get this?" He looked up at Nott. "Your family -"

"Was nothing compared to the Malfoys?" Nott sneered. "How well I know that. Not that the name Malfoy is much to brag about these days." Draco gritted his teeth, but kept silent. It was the truth, after all. Nott sat back down and continued, "I've spent my time since getting out of Hogwarts judiciously. It's amazing what you can get done when you're not locked up in Azkaban."

Draco fumbled for his chair. The mention of Azkaban never failed to make him feel shaky and ill. So Nott had somehow managed to collect a small fortune for himself. It could have been from sound investments or transporting illegal merchandise - and Nott wouldn't be any more forthcoming. But did it matter? Money was money. Draco's hand strayed again towards the bag of Galleons. "Who else is in on this with you?"

"Montague might be interested, and Flint has dropped by a few times, but Pansy sent me a rather vehement refusal. 'Stupid cow' - wasn't that what the Gryffindors always called her?" Nott laughed. "That there," he nodded at the Galleons, "will be coming to you every week. You'll be making the right choice, Draco, if you join me. His eyes flicked to Greg. "You, too, Goyle. Get back at them for what they did to Crabbe."

Draco hid a wince and avoided looking at Greg. "What about that girl you were seeing, Nancy or Nora wasn't it? Does she know about this?"

Nott's eyes narrowed. "Nora's dead."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Draco said, managing to sound surprised. "What happened?"

"Someone killed her. The Aurors are all over it of course, that idiot Weasley - but they haven't found anything. I don't expect them to, either."

"They aren't all incompetent," Draco said.

"It's not that - it's who killed her. It's got to be someone in the Ministry who found out what I'm doing. Whoever it is has the influence to make sure the Aurors never dig too deep." Nott scowled. "They think I'll stop - but I won't. I'm going to pay every one of the bastards back. What about you, Draco? Are you in?"

Draco held out his hand in answer, and Nott shook it.

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

Weasley was waiting for them at the Hanging Bat. "So, how did it go?" he asked, ushering Draco and Greg into a booth.

"I'm in," Draco replied. "He wants me to start putting out feelers at Gringotts, start talking to rich, pureblood clients. He's planning to build up a base of support, so that when he's ready to hit the Ministry, he'll have the money and people to do it."

"You mean he's actually planning a coup?"

Draco shrugged. "Looks like."

"But Nott? I mean, he was never exactly high on the radar of influence, power, or potential to cause trouble."

"I know, but he's ready to cause some now."

Ron groaned. "And with you and Goyle involved, I can't even tell Robards about this. Shit!"

"That about sums it up," Draco agreed gloomily. The Galleons were a heavy weight in the pocket of his robe. He motioned to the bartender to bring them all Firewhiskeys.

"And what about Nora and Ives?" Ron took a large gulp of his drink.

"I couldn't find a way to bring Ives into it, but he had a theory all ready to explain Nora. He said that someone from the Ministry had done it - to warn him away from this attempt at subversion."

Ron raised his eyebrows. "I doubt that. Nott is a nonentity at the Ministry as far as I can tell."

"Well, either he really believes it or he's a good actor and lying." Draco swirled the Firewhiskey in his glass, watching it reflect the candlelight. "Hard to tell."

"Hard to tell? Well you better try harder then." Ron drained his glass and slammed it back down. "If I can pin Nott with one of these murders, we can arrest him and put a stop to all this nonsense."

"I don't take orders from you," Draco snarled. "You think I like pretending that I'm still the slimy bastard I was back at Hogwarts? That Harry means nothing to me? What's going to happen if he loses his magic?" Draco stopped, trying not to break into tears.

Ron fell silent. Greg put a heavy hand on Draco's shoulder. "I'm sorry," Ron finally said. "I really appreciate your doing this. And Harry - he's going to be fine."

Draco gave him a bitter glance. "You really believe that? We only have a vague idea about what Slytherin's going to do with this White Horse and no notion at all of how to stop him."

"Hermione is the smartest witch alive today, and Harry defeated Voldemort." Ron lifted his chin. "They'll figure this out."

"I suppose you can be complacent about it," Draco spat.

"Excuse me?" Ron's face reddened. "Harry's like a brother to me! And Hermione's putting herself in danger, too!"

"Oh, spare me the noble sentiment crap, Weasley." Draco sneered. "You've only tagged along with Harry and Granger so you can bask in their reflected glory."

Ron's punch missed his nose by mere millimeters. "You bastard!" Ron shouted and tried to climb over the table to get to him, sending glasses cascading to the floor with a crash. Draco leapt up to meet him.

Then a large bulk filled his vision, and a hand seized hold of his collar. "Calm down," Greg said.

"Let me go!" Draco gasped. Ron was gripped in Greg's other hand, his fingers futilely trying to pry Greg off.

"Calm down," Greg repeated, and proceeded to hold them at arm's length until their struggles began to subside. Finally, he let go. Draco plopped back in his chair, taking deep breaths.

"Bloody hell," Ron muttered, massaging his neck. Greg retrieved their glasses and poured everyone another drink.

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

By the fifth glass, Draco had his legs propped up on the table and was humming tunelessly. Ron stared morosely at the table. "She doesn't love me anymore," he said.

"Who?" Draco asked, missing his glass twice before he managed to grab it.

Ron lifted bleary eyes. "Hermione."

"Nonsense. She's madly in love with you. Supremely, unquestionably in love with you."

"No," Ron shook his head. "I'm a horrible husband."

Draco shook his head and practically fell off his chair. "I'm a horrible husband."

Ron looked at him suspiciously. "You and Harry aren't married!"

Draco waved his hand. "A mere technicality. Anyway, I hated him for years. Tried to curse him with an Unforgivable once."

"I went out with Lavendar just to make Hermione mad," Ron said in a hopeful tone, then shook his head. "Not quite the same I guess."

"Nope." Draco sighed and leaned sideways until he was propped up against Greg. "And I lied to him about Nott for weeks."

Ron propped his face up on his elbow. "I keep pressuring Hermione into having kids. I keep getting mad at her for working so much."

"Horrible," Draco agreed. He frowned. "Kids?"

"Yeah." Ron sighed. "But Hermione doesn't want to for some reason."

Draco frowned in deep thought for a few moments. "Flowers," he announced at last.

"Flowers?"

"Give her flowers. Chocolates. That's what you're supposed to do to show you're sorry."

"Oh." Ron considered. "I guess so."

Draco leaned across the table to pat Ron on the arm. Greg hung onto the back of his shirt to keep him from pitching to the floor. "Go get some flowers."

"Okay." Ron stood up and began moving unsteadily towards the door. Draco watched him for a few seconds, then reached for the Firewhiskey bottle. Greg moved it out of his reach.

"Give me that," Draco said petulantly.

"No. You need to go home," Greg said.

"Harry's sick and all I can think about is the money Nott gave me," Draco said. "I deserve to get drunk."

Greg helped him to his feet. "You're already drunk."

The floor swayed beneath Draco, and he fought not to throw up. "Yeah, but it didn't help any."

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

Harry glanced at the clock for the fourth time in the past ten minutes. Surely if something had gone wrong, he would have heard by now?

He had been unsuccessfully trying to stop worrying about Draco all night. Even the Quibbler had failed to divert him. He either thought about Draco or...his magic. He kept casting Lumos to see if the light was getting dimmer. He reached for his wand again. No. He wasn't going to lose his magic! He would be fine. He wasn't going to let this get to him.

There was a sudden bang outside, and Harry leapt up, rushing to the door in time to see the Knight Bus careening off down the road. A large man was walking towards the house, half-carrying and half-dragging Draco with him. Harry hurried down to them.

"He drank a little too much," said the man, whom Harry now recognized as Goyle.

Harry went to Draco's other side and slipped an arm around his shoulders. It smelled like Draco had thrown up, which Harry could easily believe, having felt like doing the same when he was on the Knight Bus. "Harry?" Draco mumbled, then pushed something into Harry's hand. "These are for you."

Harry looked down in bewilderment at the limp bundle of weeds and one sad dandelion.

"He's sorry," Goyle explained.

"Oh, right," Harry replied, not understanding, but feeling it didn't matter. "Let's get him inside."

Draco fell asleep as soon as they got him to the bed. After covering Draco with a blanket, Harry held his hand out to Goyle. "Uh, hi. Thanks for making sure he got home okay." He felt he should comment on seeing Goyle again after so long, but saying I'm glad to see you, when he had never been glad to see Goyle before, seemed silly.

Goyle shook his hand solemnly.

"Did everything go okay with Nott?" Harry asked anxiously.

"Yeah." Goyle grinned. "Nott ate it up. Said he didn't murder his girlfriend, though, but Draco thought he might have been lying."

"At least he didn't suspect anything." Harry cleared his throat. "I'd offer to Apparate you home, but I haven't been feeling too good lately, and I assume your place isn't connected to the Floo network. If you want to sleep on the couch, though, Draco can take you back in the morning."

"That'd be great."

"So, I guess Draco told you about us, then?" he asked while he got more blankets and pillows for the couch. He was a little doubtful that Goyle would even fit on the couch, and didn't want to try an Engorgio charm. If it didn't work...

"Not really," Goyle replied. "But I kind of figured it out from the way he sounded when he said your name." Harry hastily bent down to fluff up the pillows and hoped Goyle wouldn't notice he was blushing.

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

Harry slept in the next morning and woke to find Draco wafting a cup of coffee under his nose. "Two Slytherins and a Gryffindor under one roof," Draco said with a smirk. "What is the world coming to?"

"A pretty good one," Harry replied, taking a grateful sip.

"You slept okay?" Draco asked.

"Yeah. No dreams."

"Good. I'm going to take Goyle back before he eats everything edible in the kitchen."

"Okay." Harry watched Draco leave, then reached for his wand. "Lumos."

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

Hermione woke to the sound of Ron throwing up in the bathroom. She had stayed up until one last night, experimenting with various potions that might replenish Harry's magic. The last one had blown up in her face, leaving her drenched in a noxious slime. Too tired to do more than wipe off her face, she had collapsed into bed. Ron, apparently, had been having a much better time.

"Were you drinking?" she snapped as he came out of the bathroom, wiping his face off with a damp towel.

"I was debriefing Draco," Ron growled. "He had his first meeting with Nott last night."

"And what does drinking have to do with that?"

"It just does." Ron pulled a clean shirt over his head. "We almost got into a fight, and we just had a few to calm down."

"Oh very mature of you, Ron. Some of us, you know, actually put real effort into our work."

"And what is that supposed to mean?"

"Think about it," Hermione said, stuffing one arm angrily into the sleeve of her robe. "I work hard all day at the hospital - researching, testing potions, then I have to come home and do more research on Slytherin, plus try to figure out a way to cure Harry. All you do, Ronald, is sleep in and go out and get drunk!"

"I didn't know solving the world's problems was on your to-do list, Hermione." Ron's face was red. "Isn't that Harry's department?"

"Don't you bring him into this," Hermione spat back.

"Why not? Because that's what you want, isn't it Hermione? To be better than everybody else. That's why you graduated top of your class. That's why you work all the bloody time. That's why you want to be the one to stop Slytherin - because then you'll finally be better than Harry, too!"

"That is not true!" Hermione shouted, tears welling up in her eyes. "I want to help Harry! I want to help my patients! I just try to do my best, Ron."

"And your best sets a pretty high standard doesn't it? Am I not up to that standard, Hermione? Is that why you don't want to have kids, because they won't be the best possible?"

"You're an idiot, Ron!" Hermione stormed to the bathroom. "I don't - I can't - talk to you!" She slammed the door shut, and leaned against it, crying.

"Fine!" Ron shouted through the door. "It was better when you wouldn't talk to me anyway!"

Hermione heard him leave the bedroom. She reached into the pocket of her bathrobe. She had gotten a Valentine's card for Ron, hoping that maybe things would be better between them. Valentine's Day had been last week - Ron had forgotten - but she had hung on to the card, just in case. She ripped it up, tossed it into the waste bin.

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

"What do you mean, you won't be playing anymore this season?"

Harry stared at Oliver's shocked face, forced himself to speak. "I can't play."

"Harry, you don't have an option here! We need you! Our match against the Harpies is coming up - their defense is the strongest in the League! You can't just decide you don't want to play!"

"Didn't you hear what I said?" Harry gripped metal edge of the bench standing next to him. "I want to play, Oliver! But I can't. Something's going wrong with my magic. I can't even get my broom up off the ground anymore," he finished in a low voice.

"But..." Oliver trailed off. "You'll be back, won't you Harry? You'll be back for next season?"

Harry looked up into the clear blue sky above the pitch. "Of course I will," he meant to say in a confident tone, but a hesitant "I hope so," slipped out instead."