The Scent of Lightning

Chapter Nine

Harry made a face as Hermione unloaded bottles of potions onto the kitchen table. "Some of these taste really awful, you know," he said. Hermione gave him a look. "But I'll take them," he finished with a sigh.

"How have you been feeling?" Hermione ran her wand over his body.

"I can't play Quidditch, casting Lumos makes me dizzy - I'm just wonderful, thanks."

Hermione bit her lip. "I'm sorry, Harry. I'm working on how we can replenish your magic - really I am."

"I know." Harry sighed. "Slytherin hasn't been back in my dreams - yet. But I'm sure he'll return as soon as he needs a little power boost."

They both stared glumly at the bottles for a moment, then Hermione shook herself. "Still want to head out to Brentor today?"

"Yep. Will Side-Along Apparition work?"

Hermione nodded. Harry got his cloak, and they went outside until they were past the wards. He tried not to tense up when Hermione put her arm around him, but it was hard. Apparition was never exactly easy and when you weren't in control yourself -

They reappeared on top of a rocky hill, a cold wind blowing. "See? I got you here safely," Hermione said. "Now, I've already looked inside, but it probably wouldn't hurt to check one more time."

Harry stood around feeling useless while Hermione walked between the pews, casting spells. He stamped on the floor a few times, in case there was a hollow space underneath.

He thought briefly about starting to break pews apart, but decided against it. They looked fairly new, and the spell must have been hidden here centuries ago.

Half an hour later, Hermione stood up from a dusty corner. "This is pointless," she said, sounding very annoyed. "I'm going to look outside."

"Okay," Harry said. He was sitting down, staring at the stained glass window, finding the colors and light strangely hypnotic.

"Feel free to help," Hermione snapped and left, slamming the door behind her.

Harry remained staring at the window. He leaned closer. It almost looked as if -

"Hermione! Come inside and take a look at this!" he shouted out the door.

Hermione came dashing over. "What is it?"

He led her over to the window. "Look there," he pointed, "right around the hem of St. Michael's robe. Doesn't it look like words?"

Hermione peered closely. "I think it is! This must be it, Harry - the spell must be hidden here in the window!"

"It seems to start at this corner down here and loop through the picture," Harry murmured, following the miniscule words with his finger.

Hermione produced some parchment and a quill. "You read it out to me," she instructed, "while I write it down."

The spell was Latin, and Harry struggled with a few of the words, but finally they had it all copied down onto the parchment. "This is definitely the spell," Hermione said, rereading what she had written. "It's designed to open a certain hidden compartment or space in a specific location."

"The stone where the golden bridle is hidden."

"Right." Hermione pushed her hair out of her eyes and gave Harry a triumphant grin. "We're almost there, Harry! Now all we need is to find out where this stone is."

"What did it say about it again? Something about the six stones where whoever made the Horse are buried?"

"Yes. Or at least that seems to be the implication." Hermione frowned. "Which suggests an ancient burial ground of some sort."

"You'd think it would be in the area around the White Horse. What do you say to going back to that bookshop? I bet the owner would know of any such places in the area."

Hermione agreed, and once again Harry gritted his teeth and let her Apparate with him.

"Back again?" Mr. Nyles said, looking up from some paperwork as they entered his store.

Harry nodded. "We've really gotten interested in these ancient sites and legends."

"We were wondering if you could suggest any other sites in the area," Hermione chimed in. "Particularly burial grounds."

Mr. Nyles shook his head. "Never rains but it pours as they say."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked.

"Here it is the off season and first you two come in asking about the White Horse. Then two days ago, another lad comes in asking about it, too, as well as old burial grounds in the area. And now you're back again."

"Someone else was asking about the White Horse?" Harry's heart speeded up. "What did he look like?"

"Oh, nothing special," Mr. Nyles said. "In his twenties, brownish hair. Anyway, I told him what I'll tell you. The closest burial ground is at Wayland Smithy."

"A smithy!" Hermione's eyes lit up.

Mr. Nyles nodded and picked up a brochure. "There's a map in here."

They thanked him for his help, purchased the brochure, and went outside to stand in a sunny, but secluded spot.

"It's too much of a coincidence that someone else came in asking about the White Horse," Harry said in a low voice. "Either Slytherin or someone who's working for him is after the bridle, too."

"It makes sense," Hermione admitted. "We don't know how much of this Slytherin had figured out before he died. He might have been in the same position we were when he returned."

"But now he's a step ahead again!" Harry slammed his fist into his palm. "If he knows about Wayland Smithy - he might already have the bridle."

"We don't know that he had the spell from Brentor," Hermione pointed out. "I agree, though, we should get over there as quickly as possible. But -" she paused.

"What?"

"Maybe we should get Ron or Draco to come with us, too," Hermione said hesitantly. "With you not feeling well - and now that we know Slytherin is on to this, too - it might be too dangerous not to have backup."

"I'm not useless!"

"I know that, Harry. But it's silly to take needless risks."

Harry scowled. "Fine."

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

Draco twirled a Galleon between his fingertips. "It would be a very lucrative opportunity," he said, glancing up.

Harold Klew frowned. "And all I have to do is my normal job?"

"For the moment." Draco paused. "When the time is right, you will be expected to help us out. Nothing too strenuous - connecting or removing certain fireplaces from the Floo Network, that sort of thing."

"Why?" Harold asked, frowning suspiciously.

Draco refrained from rolling his eyes. "Does it really matter why? You'll be getting the money won't you?"

Harold's gaze riveted on the coin in Draco's hand. Draco tossed it to him, and Harold caught it clumsily. "You'll get a flat fee up front. If you perform your part satisfactorily, we will reimburse you quite handsomely." He leaned back in his chair. "So, can we count on you?"

Harold nodded. "Yeah. I'll do it."

"Good." Draco stood up and opened the door. "And thank you for opening one of our new Value Vaults."

Harold left, stuffing the Galleon in his pocket. Draco went and sat back down at his desk. Hopefully that would satisfy Nott. Only that afternoon he had gotten another owl from the prat, asking if Draco had made any progress. Luckily, Harold Klew had walked in minutes later, a not too bright, not too rich employee of the Department of Transportation. It made him feel sick - how easy it had been for him to set about corrupting and ruining another person's life.

The Galleons Nott had given him were always on his mind. He was glad he had managed to get rid of one of them. The thought that he could make more of them was incredibly tempting. Really, was Nott's plan of instituting a few reforms all that bad?

Draco crushed that thought. Nott was most likely a murderer, and it wouldn't be long before he was asking Draco to become one, too. But it would be so nice to have that money, that power...

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

Draco managed a smile when Harry arrived home that evening.

"How was work?" Harry asked him, drinking one of the medicinal potions with a look of distaste.

"Another day," Draco said.

"That bad, huh?" Harry sighed and sat down on the couch next to him. "Well, Hermione and I found the spell, but it looks like someone else got there first."

"Slytherin?"

"Probably someone working for him, since magic was used." Harry leaned back and closed his eyes. "We think the bridle is hidden at a place called Wayland Smithy, but we decided to wait until you or Ron could come along with us, since I can't, well..." he trailed off into silence.

"It's getting worse, then?" Draco asked quietly.

"No. Not yet." Harry's hand reached reflexively for his wand, but he stilled it. "I can still cast simple things - First and Second Year stuff - but I feel sick doing it. Anything more powerful, though and I'm sure I'd pass out like I did at the game."

"I'll come with you to find the bridle," Draco said. "And then we'll put an end to this whole thing."

"When I told Oliver I couldn't play anymore," Harry whispered, stopped. He swallowed a few times. "Magic saved me. It took me away from the Dursleys. It's my life."

Draco struggled to find words, something to say to make Harry feel better, but could find nothing.

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

"So this is what you've got, Draco? Some low level Ministry employee who's probably too stupid to do the job right anyway?"

"It's called subtlety," Draco snapped at Nott. "What did you want me to do? Visit Scrimgeour himself?"

"I expected something better than this!" Nott was pacing around the room. "We're on a schedule here, dammit! We don't have all the time in the world!"

"Really? Well, that's the first I've heard of it." Draco sneered. "I'd suggest working on your organizational skills before moving on to running the world."

"I'm under a lot of pressure here," Nott growled. "He has me running all over the countryside -" Nott stopped abruptly.

"He?" Draco raised an eyebrow. "And just who, may I ask, is this person? Another pertinent detail you forgot to mention?"

A panicked light was in Nott's eyes, but he strove for a cool tone. "None of your business. You don't need to know about him. You deal with me."

"I just might have to make it my business."

"You'll stay out of it if you know what's good for you," Nott hissed.

"Is that a threat?" Draco's hand was inching towards his wand, as was Nott's.

"Yes." Nott drew his wand in a heartbeat, but Draco was just as quick. They stared at each other, breathing hard.

Then Goyle stood up by Draco's side. "You can't take the two of us," Draco said softly.

Nott stared at them for a minute more, then lowered his wand. "If I told anyone..." he glanced at the door, licking his lips nervously. "He'd kill me!"

"Is that what happened to Nora and Ives?"

"I told you - the Ministry killed Nora. And Ives - I don't know what happened to him!"

"You're lying," Draco said.

Nott was practically shaking. "He'll kill me if I tell you!"

Draco looked at him for a few moments, then lowered his wand. "Well, we can't have that, can we?"

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

"I'm hungry," Greg announced. "Let's stop for a bite."

They had been walking back to Greg's place, giving Draco time to think. He had been pondering who Nott's superior was, running over any old friends of his father's who had escaped the Ministry's clutches. The list was short.

"There? Why do you want to eat there?" Greg was pointing at a Muggle restaurant.

"They have good food," Greg said. "All You Can Eat buffet on Saturday nights."

"That explains it," Draco muttered. "Fine, we'll eat there."

Draco ordered a salad, which he figured had to be safe. While Greg shoveled down his food, Draco's eyes wandered over the Muggles. There was a family of them sitting near them. The father was fat and balding. The mother was desperately trying to get the youngest boy to sit still. The older boy had some wires in his ears attached to a box and was staring off into space, humming.

Harry could become like them. The thought struck Draco like a hammer. The very notion of Harry losing his magic was so awful, that Draco had never given thought to what would happen if he did. He would be a Muggle.

No. Harry would never be like those people. But he would no longer be a wizard. All his life, Draco had scorned people who could not use magic. He no longer hated them, but he still looked down on them, pitied them. Could he still love Harry, if -

Draco squashed that thought. Nothing would change his love for Harry. Nothing. But still - He looked at the Muggles again. Harry wouldn't be able to do so many things. What if being with Draco made him jealous? What if Harry decided to leave him?

"Hey. Snap out of it," Greg said, waving his hand in front of Draco's face. "What are you thinking about?"

Draco swallowed. "Harry."

Greg's face softened. "He's sick, huh?"

"Yes." Draco tried to blink back the tears before they fell. "This is where - in a restaurant like this - "

"It'll be okay," Greg said. It was what he had always said back at Hogwarts, whenever Draco was angry or upset. And then Vince would say -

"I'll hit 'em for you if you want."

Greg glanced at Draco, then down at the table. "Yeah. Good old Vince. I miss him sometimes. All the time."

"I'm sorry," Draco whispered. "For everything."

"It was our choice."

"You didn't have a choice. None of us did."

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

They were waiting for him when he stepped into his office the next day.

"Conway. Auror."

"Worley. Auror."

They showed him their identification. "Take a seat, Mr. Malfoy," Conway said.

"May I ask why you're here?" Draco asked, striving to keep the terror out of his voice.

"We've been hearing some disturbing reports," Worley answered. "Seems like you've been visiting a Theodore Nott quite often lately.

Draco forced himself to keep his breathing slow and even. "I knew him at Hogwarts. We were just talking over old times."

"Really?" Conway came and stood right next to him. "Then I suggest you stop your visits to Mr. Nott. Mr. Nott is involved in some Dark business, if you take my meaning, and you wouldn't want to get caught up in it."

"No. Of course I wouldn't," Draco whispered. The smell of the sea seemed to be filling the room, and he could already sense the Dementors.

"I'm glad we understand each other, Mr. Malfoy," Worley said, and they walked out.

Draco sat there shaking for a few moments, then summoned an owl.

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

"Calm down," Ron said. "They were just trying to scare you."

"Well it worked!" Draco was gripping the top of the table, his knuckles white. "No one else was supposed to know about this!"

"Look, I'm sorry. Nott is on our watch list, that's all. They don't have anything on you."

"How can you be sure? Anyway, I thought you were the only one who was suspicious about Nott."

Ron shrugged. "The Ministry keeps tabs on anyone with connections to Death Eaters."

"And that includes me." Draco gave him a furious glare. "If they find out what I'm doing for Nott, I'll be back in Azkaban before I can blink."

"Not if I explain that you're working with me," Ron argued. "Robards will be angry that I never told him about it, but he'll get over it."

"There's no guarantee that they'll believe you. The Ministry will jump at the chance to send me back to the Dementors." Draco's voice shook on that word. "I can't believe I was stupid enough to give them a reason to do it!"

"Look, you're getting upset for nothing," Ron said, overriding the outraged noise Draco made. "Conway and Worley were just being jerks. I'm sure they don't have any solid evidence."

"You better make sure about that," Draco hissed, leaning closer. "Greg's neck is on the line here, too."

"I will. Don't worry about it," Ron told him. He leaned back, massaging a shoulder. Robards had been breathing down his neck, and Ron kept having nightmares where Goyle was discovered dancing around the Atrium fountain when he should have been miles away in Muggle London.

"You look tense."

"You're giving me plenty of reasons to be," Ron growled back.

"Things still not going well between you and Granger, huh?"

"How do you - " Ron remembered the drunken evening a few weeks ago. "Oh. No, they aren't."

"I envy you," Draco said.

"Why?" Ron snorted. "You've been on the receiving end of Hermione's anger, too."

"Because you have all those memories from Hogwarts to look back on. Even if you are fighting, the both of you can remember all those years you spent together - as friends. Not all of us have that," Draco finished quietly.

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

Greg wasn't expecting him, so it took three rings on the doorbell before he answered. "What do you know about your neighbours?" Draco asked, peering suspiciously out the curtain.

"Um, Mrs. Bentley lives next door. She's old, so I help her carry her groceries up the stairs." Greg grinned. "She makes these great chocolate chip cookies, always brings some over for me. And then there's Miss Gregory across the way. She's studying to be an artist - said she'd bring me a painting to hang on my wall, but had to find colors to go with 'vomit yellow'." Greg peered at the walls. "I don't think they're so bad, do you?"

"Yes, actually." Draco looked at Greg. "So - are these people your friends, then?"

"Yeah," Greg smiled.

Draco gazed out the window again, then sat down on the couch after removing a molding piece of apple from the cushion. "There's a chance the Ministry knows what's going on. Two Aurors came to see me yesterday. They didn't mention you, but..."

"That's good then," Greg said.

"What I mean is," Draco took a deep breath, "if you don't want to help spy on Nott anymore, I understand."

Greg shook his head. "A couple of Aurors don't frighten me."

"But you have a life here." Draco paused. "And you seem happy. I won't be responsible for taking that away from you. Not again."

"I am happy," Greg said slowly. "At Hogwarts, I was just your stupid bodyguard. If I came back, I'd still be stupid. But here I don't have to be good at turning mice into teacups for people to like me."

"You'll lose that if the Ministry finds out that you're helping me."

"Maybe. But there's something else I can be now - a good friend."

Draco looked at him, looked away. "You are," he whispered, "a very good friend."